Deceptions
by hbwgonnabe
Summary: Finished! Looks can be deceiving.
1. Chapter 1

"I can't do this," grunted the athletic blond youth as he strained every one of his muscles. "Mmmm," he groaned, closing his blue eyes and pulling with all his strength. "Oh!" he shouted as the rope slid from his grasp and his chubby seventeen-year-old friend, Chet Morton, went sliding down the side of the building.  
  
"Chet!" Joe Hardy shouted and dropped to his knees and leaned over the edge of the roof.   
  
His brown eyes glaring, Chet hung upside down in midair trying to right himself. "Thanks!" he shouted back up in a sarcastic tone.   
  
Joe sighed and sat back, looking up at the man who taught the survival training class he, Chet, and his year older brother, Frank, had joined. "I'm sorry," Joe said. "I just couldn't hold him."  
  
Smothering a grin at the disgruntled expression on his brother's face, eighteen-year-old Frank stooped down and, with the help of his partner for the workout, nineteen-year-old Kevin Morris, began hauling Chet up.  
  
"Daddy's mad," Kevin muttered loud enough for Joe to hear him but not the rugged forty year old teacher with blond hair and blue eyes who was frowning at Joe. The resemblance between Joe and Tom Leland was so uncanny that everyone who hadn't known him had assumed he was Tom's son on the first day of class. The teasing kept coming even though the misunderstanding had been straightened out immediately upon introduction.  
  
"I'm afraid you just failed your exam for the day," Tom told Joe with a slight shake of his head.   
  
"I tried," Joe argued. "He was just too heavy."  
  
"Then you should have tried another method of hauling him up," Tom said not accepting Joe's meager defense.  
  
"I couldn't get to any of the other gear without letting go," Joe protested.  
  
"Then you should have attained a prone position, relinquishing the energy needed to stand upright, and pulled in that fashion," Tom told him. "Prone, you could have grabbed hold of his other hand and assisted him in walking up the remainder of the building."  
  
Angry with himself for not having thought of it, Joe sighed. "You're right," he admitted. "I guess I need to reread my manual."  
  
"Couldn't hurt," agreed Tom with a smile. "Okay, everybody!" he called out, turning to face the other students. "Pack it up. We're done for today. We'll meet in the classroom on Tuesday."  
  
Topside once again, Chet gave Joe a light punch in the arm careful not to hit him too hard because Frank's watchful brown eyes were on him. Even in jest Frank would not allow anyone to hit Joe with any amount of force.  
  
"Tough break," Kevin said to Joe. "You'll have to work hard to make up for this failure," he added. Tom was a great guy but a tough grader.  
  
"My own fault," Joe admitted with a shrug. "I need to study more," he glanced at his brother who had just pushed a lock of brown hair from his eyes. Frank had told him only last night he should go over the manual in case Tom gave them a pop quiz today. I should have listened, he thought ruefully. He grinned. At least Frank wasn't an "I told you so" type of person.  
  
"Me too," put in Paul Osborne from his right. Paul was twenty-two-years old and had signed up for the class to surprise his father who was a professional mountain climber. "I never would have thought of that."  
  
Frank, Joe, and Chet finished packing their gear and headed back into the building and down the five flights of steps that led to the lobby. "Hey, wait up!" Chet demanded, spotting a vending machine in the corner of the lobby. He headed over to it as Frank and Joe stood by the door waiting patiently. Chet put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a handful of change, most of which fell and began rolling around on the floor.  
  
Sighing, Frank handed Joe his backpack. "Here," he said. "Go on to the van. I'll help Chet."  
  
Grinning, Joe took the pack and headed out the door as Frank went to help retrieve the coins. Joe had barely left the building before he saw something that brought him up short. "Hey!" he shouted upon seeing Tom being held by two men as a third rammed a fist into Tom's stomach.   
  
Joe dropped his gear and took off running. He grabbed hold of the third man's fist as he pulled it back for another punch and spun the guy around. Joe's left fist connected with the man's right jaw and sent him to the ground.   
  
One of the other men released Tom and moved in on Joe throwing a right cross which Joe easily blocked. The man still holding Tom pushed Tom hard into Joe causing him to fall back onto the pavement with Tom lying on top of him. "Let's split," the man ordered, spotting two boys running toward them.  
  
"This ain't over," snarled the man Joe had decked. "You're gonna pay big," he added, looking over his shoulder, as he followed the other two thugs and jumped into a red and black jeep Cherokee. The jeep roared down the street and around the corner as Joe and Tom got to their feet.  
  
"Are you guys okay?" demanded Frank as his eyes raked over the two for visible injury.  
  
"I'm fine," Joe quickly assured his brother. "But Tom might need some medical attention."  
  
"No," Tom said with a little grunt of pain. "I'm all right." He looked at Joe and frowned. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but you shouldn't have interfered."  
  
"You would rather I let them beat you up?" demanded Joe, his eyes flashing.  
  
"I appreciate it. Really," Tom told him trying to cool Joe's rising temper. "But by interfering you have made yourself a target," he pointed out.  
  
"Is that all you're concerned about?" Chet asked, opening his bag of chips. "Frank and Joe are used to that," he added airily.  
  
"What do you mean?" asked Tom his eyes narrowing on the brothers.  
  
"He means that Joe and I are detectives," Frank answered. "We're used to taking on bad guys."  
  
"But you're just kids!" Tom rejected the concept. He looked at Joe with a worried frown. "Maybe you should drop out of my class," he suggested.  
  
"What? You're punishing me for helping you?" Joe demanded in disbelief.  
  
"Look. It's complicated," said Tom, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck. "If you didn't look like you do, it wouldn't be so bad."  
  
"You mean because Joe could be mistaken for your son by those hoods the way that some of the students did?" Frank asked, glancing at Joe.  
  
"Yes," Tom admitted wearily. "If anything happened to you on account of me..." his voice trailed off as he shook his head.  
  
"Who were those men?" asked Joe curiously.  
  
Tom shook his head. "I'm not..."  
  
"We can take care of ourselves," Joe interrupted him. "And whether you want it or not, you are getting our help."  
  
"No," Tom responded sharply. "Stay out of it or don't bother coming to any more classes," he added as he turned and walked away.  
  
"Well, that's it," Chet said with a false brightness as he headed back to where their gear was lying near the front door. "Let's go home and reread the manual and have dinner."  
  
"We'll drop you off at home," offered Frank. "Then Joe can go to the police station and look through the mug shots and I am going to run a background search on Tom."  
  
"What can I do?" Chet asked with a sigh as he resigned himself to help.  
  
"Nothing," answered Frank. "For now, it's strictly research mode."  
  
The three boys gathered their gear and climbed into a black customized van that was, at one time, used for police surveillance. After dropping Chet off at his farm on the outskirts of town, Joe dropped Frank off at their home on the corners of High and Elm streets. "Keep my dinner warm," Joe told him sternly as his stomach let out a growl.  
  
Frank laughed. "Just hurry," he told his younger brother before closing the van's door and going inside.  
  
Joe drove down to headquarters and asked to speak with Sergeant Con Riley. Con was a man in his late twenties with curly brown hair and brown eyes who had been a friend of the Hardys for several years. Arriving at Con's desk a few minutes later Joe took a seat in front of Con's desk.  
  
"What do you need this time?" Con inquired with a tolerant grin at his young friend.  
  
Joe told Con about the attack on his teacher, omitting his name, and asked to see the mug shots. "No one has filed a report," Con said, looking quizzically at Joe.  
  
"I know," Joe admitted. "He wants to forget it happened, but he needs help."  
  
"And you and Frank are going to make sure he gets it," Con deduced. "Okay, go on down and tell Arnie I said to let you have at 'em."  
  
"Thanks," Joe said getting up and heading out of the room and down the hall.  
  
***  
  
Back at the Hardy home Frank was sitting at the desk in the room his father had converted into an office. He was staring in shock at the screen of the computer where a page was displayed from the files of the FBI detailing the crimes of Thomas Andrew Leland. "Joe's never going to believe this," he mumbled scrolling down the page.  
  
Frank printed the file so Joe could read it then logged off and went downstairs. As he reached the entryway to the living room, he came to a stop. He stood still for a couple of moments listening to their surprise guest talking to his father before continuing into the room.  
  
"Hello, Tom," said Frank causing the man's eyes to widen as he jumped to his feet. "Imagine seeing you here."  
  
Fenton Hardy watched the interaction between their visitor and his eldest son through narrowed brown eyes. Obviously Frank knew something about this man.  
  
"I knew your and Joe's last name was Hardy but I didn't realize you were Fenton Hardy's sons," Tom said. His eyes searched behind Frank, straining for a glimpse of Joe. "Where is Joe?" he asked, his eyes taking on a glimmer of fear.  
  
"At the police station," informed Frank. "Why?"  
  
"Joe's the reason I came to see your father for help," answered Tom. 


	2. Chapter 2

"Excuse me?" said Mr. Hardy standing up. "What has my son to do with your problem?"  
  
"I had better start at the beginning," said Tom, sitting back down.  
  
"An excellent idea," agreed Frank sitting down on the arm of his father's chair as he sat back down.  
  
"I used to work for a man named Cash Morrison," Tom began.  
  
"One of the FBI's most wanted," Frank noted, his eyes narrowing. "Continue."  
  
"Morrison runs a gambling operation here on the East Coast," Tom explained. "Not only that, but he has been fixing races and games to ensure he comes out the big winner."  
  
"What was your role in Morrison's operation?" asked Mr. Hardy.  
  
Tom's eyes fell. "I helped fix some of the games," he confessed. "A lot of people got hurt but it wasn't until one kid, a twelve year old, got killed that I decided to get out."  
  
"What did you do to the twelve-year-old?" demanded Mr. Hardy.  
  
"I arranged an accident for one of the Dolphins," Tom stated, his blue eyes filled with remorse. "Something went wrong and a set of bleachers collapsed. A little girl died."  
  
"You should be talking to the authorities," Mr. Hardy told the man. "We do not accept felons as clients."  
  
"I have," Tom replied. "To the FBI anyway. They are putting me in the witness protection program for giving testimony against Morrison."  
  
"Then why are you here?" asked Frank.  
  
"Two agents were supposed to have picked me up after class today," Tom told him. "Instead, some of Morrison's men showed up."  
  
"Someone at the FBI is on Morrison's payroll," Mr. Hardy deduced accurately. "Unfortunately, this happens all too frequently."  
  
"Must be," Tom agreed. "I can go into hiding until the trial or I may try a different agent to talk to, but what worries me is Joe."  
  
"You mentioned that before," Mr. Hardy said. "What does he have to do with this?"  
  
"In case you hadn't noticed, Joe bears a strong resemblance to me. Some of the students in my class even tease Joe because of it," Tom answered.  
  
"It is pretty noticeable," Frank put in looking at his father. "Especially when the two of them are together."  
  
"Like we were when he came to my rescue this afternoon," Tom stated. "On occasion, to get people to cooperate, we kidnapped members of a player's family. If the player did as he was told, the family member would be returned unharmed."  
  
"And if not, you would kill them," Frank said grimly.  
  
"It never came to that," Tom said sharply, looking Frank in the eyes.  
  
"But it could have," Frank pointed out in a tone filled with disgust.  
  
"Yes," Tom admitted, his eyes falling to the floor.  
  
"I will be blunt, Mr. Leland," Mr. Hardy said rising from his chair once again. "You make me sick. You are a despicable lowlife who, more than likely, will get off scot free because of a deal you're making with our government. Fifteen minutes ago, if I had known your history I would have had you cuffed and ready for the police. But," he added, his expression softening. "But you came to me in order to help my son and for that, I thank you."  
  
Tom nodded and stood up to leave but Mr. Hardy held up a hand to stop him. "I don't know whom you talked with at the FBI but I will call a friend of mine, Agent Boone. He's with the Bayport branch and I'll see if he can come over here now."  
  
"You're going to help me?" Tom asked in disbelief. "Even after I told you what I had done?"  
  
"Anyone who wants to look out for Joe has to have some redeeming quality," Frank told him. He frowned. "That didn't come out quite how I planned but you know what I mean."  
  
Mr. Hardy smiled. "You two wait here," he said. "I'll go make that call."  
  
***  
  
Joe was on the third book of mug shots when he recognized one of the men involved in the attack. He jotted down the corresponding number on a slip of paper and kept looking. Almost an hour later, Joe returned to Con's desk with the case numbers of the three men.  
  
Con pulled up their files and printed copies for Joe. "These are rough customers," he said, handing the printout to Joe. "If your friend is involved with them, he does need help. Or a good lawyer," he added.  
  
"Yeah," agreed Joe scanning the top sheet. "Thanks, Con," he said turning to leave. He and Frank would go over them later.  
  
Joe left the station and got back in the van. He pulled out into traffic and headed toward home. When he got there he was surprised to see Tom's green Saab parked in the driveway. Not wanting to block him in, Joe pulled around to the back and got out of the van.   
  
As he reached the back door, a figure stepped from behind one of the elm trees that gave the street its name and ordered in a low voice, "Hold real still." 


	3. Chapter 3

"Who are you?" demanded Joe as he was shoved against the wall of the house.  
  
"Agent Danson, FBI," identified the man, holding up a badge inside of a wallet for Joe to see.  
  
"And why are you hanging around my house?" asked Joe as the agent began to frisk him.  
  
"Your...?" said the agent, stopping his check. He put a hand on Joe's shoulder and spun him around. "Identify yourself."  
  
"Joe Hardy," Joe answered, pulling out his wallet slowly and handing it to the agent. "What's going on?" he asked after Danson returned his wallet.  
  
"You had better go inside," was Joe's reply. Danson watched as Joe inserted his key into the lock then accompanied Joe inside to the living room before returning to his post outside the kitchen door.  
  
"What's going on?" asked Joe, his sharp blue eyes taking in Tom's nervousness and Agent Boone's serious expression as he talked with Tom.  
  
Although the thirty something agent was wearing blue jeans and a red tee shirt, Joe recognized the brown headed man at once as Jeffery Boone, a friend of his dad's from the local branch of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.  
  
Fenton and Frank looked over at Joe as he spoke and instantly their expressions became relaxed. They were worried about me! thought Joe in surprise. Why?  
  
"What's going on?" asked Joe again as Frank came over to him. Frank took Joe's arm and led him into the kitchen where he filled Joe in on Tom's history and the story behind the afternoon's attack.  
  
"Tom?" asked Joe thunderstruck, his blue eyes growing large. "He seemed like such a decent guy," he commented as he handed Frank the printout with photos that Con had given him at police headquarters.   
  
"This first guy is Eddie Moran," Joe said, pointing at the picture of a man in his mid-twenties with curly brown hair. "And this one is Jake Grayhaven," he stated as Frank placed the first picture under the others to see the second one. Grayhaven was a man of diminished stature with straight black hair and intense brown eyes. "The last guy," Joe began then paused until Frank switched photographs, "is Miller Picard." Picard was a man with graying black hair that hung at shoulder length.  
  
"We had better show these to Dad, Tom, and Agent Boone," said Frank with a frown on his face. He led the way back into the living room and came to a standstill beside his father.  
  
"Joe, I'm sorry you had to get involved," said Tom going to stand in front of him.  
  
"I don't get it," Joe said. "How did you go from being a thug for Morrison to being a teacher?"  
  
"I had to have something to keep anyone from suspecting me and survival is one of my specialties," confessed Tom.  
  
"Well, Agent Boone will be able to keep you out of the line of fire," Joe said with a slight dip at the corners of his mouth. He couldn't help feeling like Tom had used him and the other students on some level.  
  
"I know," Tom said. "But what about you? As long as they think you are related to me, you are in trouble."  
  
"No big," Joe assured him with an impish grin. "I'll just let Liz interview me for the Bayport Times and ask for front page. Everyone will know who I am after that."  
  
"You know, I like that better than my idea," Agent Boone commented with a wide smile.  
  
"Which was?" Joe asked, open for suggestions because he really hated giving interviews.  
  
"Protective custody until after the trial," was the answer. Joe scowled. He would never go for that!  
  
Frank laughed at Joe's sour expression but Fenton looked up from the three photos with a frown on his face. "Be very careful," he cautioned Joe.  
  
"I will," acknowledged Joe aware his father was giving serious consideration to the protective custody.  
  
"Is there anything we can do?" asked Fenton of Agent Boone.  
  
"Just get that article in the morning's paper," was the agent's reply. "Once the trial is over Morrison, nor those guys, will be a problem." he added, pointing to the print out and photos in Fenton's possession.  
  
"I'm sorry, boys," said Tom again before he left with the agents.  
  
"I'll call the Times and work out the arrangements for the interview with Mr. Webling," Fenton said as soon as their guests had departed.  
  
"We can have Liz take care of it tonight," said Joe. "We're picking up the girls and going to meet the gang at Mr. Pizza's."  
  
"Liz is dating Biff," Frank informed his dad.  
  
"I thought he was going out with Karen," Fenton said.  
  
"They broke up two weeks ago," Joe said.  
  
Fenton bit his bottom lip as he looked at his youngest son. He really didn't want Joe going anywhere until after the article had been out for a few hours but figured since he would be with his brother and friends there shouldn't be any immediate danger.  
  
"All right," said Fenton with a sigh. "But," he stressed. "But I don't want you to go anywhere by yourself," he insisted, staring Joe in the eyes. "Not even just you and Vanessa. I don't want you out of your brother's sight for a second."  
  
"Don't worry Dad," Frank told him. "I'll keep him by my side all night."  
  
Relaxing a bit, Fenton left the boys to go upstairs to his office and work on a case that he had recently been assigned by the government. Less than thirty minutes later, Frank and Joe were on their way to pick up Vanessa Bender, Joe's seventeen-year-old girlfriend. Frank pulled the van to a stop in front of the main house at the Bender's farm and got out. Andrea Bender, Vanessa's widowed mother, had purchased the farm and converted the barn into a studio where she produced cartoons, but they lived in the large farmhouse alone.  
  
Frank opened Joe's door and waited for Joe to alight. "This really isn't necessary," grumbled Joe.   
  
"Necessary or not, we will do this my way," Frank replied sternly. "There's no point in taking any chances."  
  
Joe rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut. Everyone thought Joe was the stubborn one but that was only because Joe was proven wrong on occasion. It was harder for anyone to recognize Frank as stubborn because he was almost always right!  
  
"Hi," Vanessa greeted them at the door, her gray eyes flitting from Joe to Frank curiously. Usually, when she was just being picked up, only Joe would come to get her and Frank would wait in the van. "Is something wrong?" she asked, her forehead creasing a bit as she frowned.  
  
"No," Joe hurried to assure her, reaching out and moving a long strand of blond hair from her cheek. "Not really. Frank's just being...himself," he explained with a shrug.  
  
"What?" demanded Vanessa, her expression showing her bewilderment.  
  
"Wait until we get to Mr. Pizza," Frank said. "We'll explain it to everyone then."  
  
The three got into the van and drove to the home of Frank's seventeen-year-old girlfriend, Callie Shaw. There, Frank made Joe and Vanessa lock the doors while he went inside to get her.  
  
"All right," said Callie sitting down at a table in the corner of the restaurant. "We're all here," she added, her brown eyes boring into the brown ones of her boyfriend. "What's going on?"  
  
"Something's going on?" asked sandy-haired Phil Cohen looking at Frank with interest.  
  
"A new mystery?" blond and beefy Biff inquired.  
  
"Does this have anything to do with Tom?" asked Chet.  
  
"Ohhh yeah," answered Joe just before Frank began to fill everyone in about Tom Leland.  
  
Chet shook his head when Frank finished speaking. "Tom?" he demanded in amazement. Like Joe, he never would have suspected Tom had such a dark side.  
  
"But why were you being so protective of Joe?" demanded Vanessa, more concerned with her boyfriend than their survival instructor.  
  
"I know!" exclaimed Chet. "It's because Joe looks like Tom, right?"  
  
"Right," agreed Frank. "Which is why we need your help," he said, turning to Liz.  
  
"Ask away," directed Liz Webling, her dark blue eyes alive with interest.  
  
"If the men who were after Tom think Joe's his son then they will try and get Joe so Tom won't testify," explained Frank. "We need to make sure they know Joe isn't related to Tom."  
  
Liz looked confused. "How can I help with that?" she inquired.  
  
"We need you to do a human-interest story on Joe and put it on the front page," Frank said, mentally crossing his fingers and hoping she would agree. "Dad can call your dad and make the arrangements if..."  
  
"Are you kidding?" Liz interrupted Frank with delight as she shoved a lock of black hair out of her eyes. "You guys never give interviews! Do you have any idea how popular this story is going to be?" she demanded. "Dad may even give me a raise!"  
  
Joe blushed. "It doesn't have to be big or anything," he mumbled.  
  
"Relax, Joe," Liz told him, taking his hand and standing up. "I promise it will be painless and I already have a picture of you I can use. Let's go to a booth so we can have a little quite."  
  
Frank looked alarmed as Joe stood up. "Easy, bro," Joe calmed him. "I'll still be in your line of vision," he pointed out as he held up a hand and waved to a booth directly opposite the table they were currently at.  
  
Vanessa shook her head as she watched Joe and Liz walk away. "I can't believe Joe's going off with another girl and I'm letting him," she said grinning.  
  
***  
  
"There he is," Picard said softly as he looked around the restaurant after he and his two cohorts had been seated.  
  
"He's never alone," snarled Grayhaven, glaring at Joe as he moved across the restaurant with a dark haired girl.  
  
"Then we will follow him until he is," Picard stated calmly.  
  
"And if he is never alone tonight?" Moran demanded. "The boss said to bring him in tonight."  
  
"Then we will just have to make sure he gets separated from the Hardy kid after they have left their friends," Picard said.  
  
"Easier said than done," Moran complained.  
  
"We could eliminate the Hardy brat. We only need Leland's son alive," suggested Grayhaven.  
  
"As a last resort," agreed Picard. "One way or another, we will have him before daybreak." 


	4. Chapter 4

"Thanks for doing this," Joe said as he sat down on one side of the table.  
  
"Don't thank me," Liz told him. "I've wanted to interview you guys for the paper for ages."  
  
"Then why didn't you ask?" Joe wanted to know.  
  
"You guys are my friends," she explained. "I refuse to take advantage of that friendship."  
  
"And here I am doing just that," Joe said, his smile faltering.  
  
"Hey, don't be that way," Liz scolded him. "If my life had depended on interviewing you I would have asked and I know you would have complied. Besides, I am just grateful for a chance to help you. Lord knows you and Frank have done a lot for the people of Bayport." Joe blushed again. Smothering a grin, Liz began the interview.  
  
Forty minutes later the two returned to their dates. "Biff, I need to go to the office and get this ready," Liz said. "You can stay here if you want?" she offered.  
  
"No way," declined Biff. "I've always wanted to see behind the scenes at the paper." He stood up and took one of her hands in his. "We'll see you guys at school Monday," he said. "If not sooner," he added, confidant that his friends would call him if they needed him.  
  
The remaining teens spent the next hour talking and eating. "There's a new flick playing," Callie suggested when Chet asked what they should do next.   
  
"Ooh, the one about the pirates," Vanessa put in with a dreamy sigh. It starred one of her favorite actors. "I've heard it's very good."  
  
"It must be," Phil commented. "It's been playing for a month now and it's always sold out when I've tried to see it."  
  
Frank looked at his watch. "If we hurry, we can be there twenty minutes before it starts. We might be able to get in."  
  
"I'm game," Chet said and his date, Helen Osborne, nodded.  
  
The boys divvied the tab and left a tip and then the group left Mr. Pizza unaware that three more patrons were also on their way out.  
  
The youths arrived at the cinema and joined the throng of people waiting to get in. Ten minutes later they paid for their tickets and entered the well-lit lobby. There, Chet bought two sodas and an extra large popcorn and then they all went into the theater to find a seat.  
  
After the movie the boys went outside to the vehicles to wait for the girls. Chet laughed at Joe's imitation of one of the actor's imitation of his costar in the movie when he saw something that stopped him in mid guffaw.  
  
"What's wrong?" Frank asked, looking at Chet curiously as the guys ceased their hilarity.  
  
"Over there," Chet said and nodded in the direction of a brown Toyota at the corner of the street. "The driver. He looks like one of the guys who were picking on Tom earlier."  
  
Frank and Joe spun around to look at the car Chet had indicated. "He's right," Joe said. "It's Moran."  
  
Frank's face hardened and he started to reach for Joe's arm but then changed his mind. "Phil, can you slip back into the theater and call the police?"  
  
"For what?" Joe asked. "You heard Agent Boone. There's nothing that can be done about them until after the trial unless they do try something."  
  
"They attacked Tom," Chet said.  
  
"But no charges were brought against them for that," Joe reminded him. "They aren't breaking any laws just sitting there."  
  
"They are following you," Frank hissed, not happy at all because he knew Joe was right.  
  
"Oh boy. That should earn them a slap on the wrist," Joe replied sarcastically.  
  
"I think we should get you home," Frank said. "Dad was right. You should have stayed home until after the article was published."  
  
"He never said that," Joe put in.  
  
"No, but you saw his face when you told him about our plans for tonight," Frank argued. "He was thinking it."  
  
"We have to take the girls home first," Joe pointed out.  
  
"No, you don't," Chet said. "Helen and I will take Callie and Vanessa home," he offered.  
  
"You really should be at home," Phil put in. "With the alarm system on. From what you told us about these guys, if they get you before the article comes out and then find out you aren't Tom's son, they will kill you."  
  
Joe frowned. He hated being a prisoner even if it was in his own house but under the circumstances he supposed Frank and his friends were right. "Fine," he said. "Let's go home. After we tell the girls," he added before Frank could grab him and shove him through the open door of the van that Chet had opened.  
  
Frank wanted to leave now but realized Joe was right. They had to tell their dates why they were leaving them or face their wrath and Frank had long since learned never to inspire Callie's ire.  
  
A few moments later the girls came out of the building and joined the boys where Frank explained at once about being followed.  
  
"Frank's right," Vanessa said, looking at Joe with worry clouding her eyes. "You should stay home until tomorrow afternoon at least," she said. "Be careful?" she asked softly, smiling at him.  
  
Callie kissed Frank goodbye and looked over at Joe. "Aren't you going to kiss Vanessa goodnight?" she asked in mild shock. Joe never missed the opportunity to kiss his girlfriend.  
  
Joe shook his head. "I don't want those bozos thinking they could grab her and make a trade."  
  
Frank looked at Joe with pride. He hadn't even thought of that! "Let's get going," said Frank.  
  
"See you tomorrow night," Joe said, looking at Vanessa.  
  
"Okay," she accepted the informal date. "But we'll stay at my place."  
  
"Deal," Joe agreed although he doubted there would be a reason for him to hide tomorrow.  
  
Frank tried to lose the Toyota on the way home without making it look too obvious, but it was no use. When he pulled the van into their driveway the Toyota came to a stop at the end of Elm Street.  
  
Frowning, Frank pulled the van all the way into the garage and got out. "Stay here," he ordered Joe. Frank closed the garage door and then went to Joe's door and opened it. "Okay, let's get inside and check the windows then turn the alarm on."  
  
"Don't you think you're being a bit over-protective?" asked Joe. "You don't really think they are going to come in here and grab me, do you? And if they did, they would realize Tom wasn't here which means I couldn't be his son and then they would leave."  
  
Frank shook his head at Joe's reasoning. For such a good detective he sometimes found Joe's naivety unreal. "Come on," he said and let Joe precede him into the house.  
  
"Dad!" Frank called out as they entered the kitchen. Fenton entered the kitchen scarcely a minute later. "You're home early," he observed.  
  
Frank told his dad about being followed. "I was afraid they would try something tonight," Fenton said. "Frank, check the upstairs windows," he instructed. "Joe, stay here while I check down here," he added, locking the kitchen door and the door that connected the kitchen to the garage.  
  
When Fenton and Frank returned, Frank turned on the burglar alarm then sat down at the small table where Joe had prepared a late night snack for the three of them. "I'm glad your mother isn't here," Fenton said, picking up a soft chocolate chip cookie and taking a bite.  
  
"She could handle this," Joe said with a shrug.  
  
"Yes, but she wouldn't let me have any cookies," Fenton said. Laura insisted that high calorie snacks should be had before dinner and not after since she had started reading some new nutritional book a friend had given her.  
  
After their snack, Fenton sent the boys to bed while he cleaned up the dishes. After getting ready for bed, Frank looked in on his little brother through the open bathroom door that connected their two rooms. "Night, baby brother," Frank said as Joe climbed into bed.  
  
"Night," Joe said with a grimace. "I'll be glad when that article comes out," he said, stretching his arms and yawning as he spoke.  
  
"Don't talk when you yawn," Frank reprimanded him. "It's almost impossible to understand you."  
  
"Sorry," Joe apologized, grinning sheepishly. "I said I'd be glad when the article comes out. With Mars closer than it's ever been I wanted to take Vanessa to the Observatory."  
  
"Hey, that's a good idea," Frank said, planning on taking Callie now that Joe had mentioned it. "We can do that tomorrow night."  
  
"If Vanessa will let me," Joe said, remembering she had said she wanted to stay at her place.  
  
"Oh, I'm sure you will be able to convince her," Frank told him, grinning. "Good night. Yell if you need anything."  
  
"I will," promised Joe, reaching out and turning off the lamp on the night stand as Frank left the doorway to return to his own room.  
  
Frank turned off his own light and crawled in bed. He too would be glad once the article came out. Joe would no longer be in any danger. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.  
  
Later, Frank sat bolt upright in bed; his heart pounding. What was that sound? The alarm! He shoved his sheet aside as he leapt to his feet and raced to Joe's bedroom.  
  
Not seeing Joe, he began to panic. He heard a motor rev to life and rushed to the window in time to see the Toyota tearing away. Frank paled as he realized they must have had someone already in the house before the alarm had been turned on! 


	5. Chapter 5

Groaning in disgust for not taking better precautions, Frank ran out of Joe's room screaming at the top of his lungs. "Dad! They got Joe!"  
  
"No they didn't," Joe said running up the stairs. "The alarm scared them off," he continued looking at Frank quizzically. "You certainly took long enough to get out of bed. I took off as soon as I heard the alarm."  
  
"I went straight to your room," Frank explained. "It is you they want after all."  
  
"Well, they are long gone now," Fenton replied coming back up the stairs. He had followed Joe down earlier and reset the alarm and called the police to let them know they didn't need to show up. "I sincerely doubt they will try that again. At least tonight," he amended.  
  
"Let's get back to bed," Fenton continued. "That's enough excitement for one evening."  
  
The next morning Frank and Joe headed downstairs and found their father in the kitchen reading the morning paper. Fenton folded the paper and handed it to Frank as Joe went to the cabinet and pulled out two cereal bowls.  
  
"Liz did a good job on the article," Fenton said picking up his spoon and taking a bite of cereal as Joe set the bowls down on the table.  
  
"Good," Joe said, grabbing two spoons and laying them beside the bowls then reaching for two glasses. "I don't want to spend the entire weekend watching my back."  
  
"Well, a few more hours of it anyway," Fenton said. "I want you to stay home at least until this afternoon. We want to make sure they have had time to see the article."  
  
"I suppose a few hours at home won't kill me," Joe said with a sad sigh.  
  
Frank laughed at Joe as he sat down and passed him the paper. "Here," he said, picking up the orange juice and pouring himself and Joe a glass. "You better read it so you'll know what to say to Liz about it."  
  
***  
  
Grayhaven looked at the morning edition of The Bayport Times and frowned. "Boss," he said, walking into the living room as he scanned the article. "You have got to see this." He handed the paper to a tall man with muscular arms.  
  
Cash Morrison took the proffered paper and read the article, his green eyes skeptical as they moved from the paragraph to the picture. "So, Fenton Hardy is protecting Leland's son," he commented in a low voice.  
  
"But the article said that was Joe Hardy," Grayhaven corrected him. "We've been after the wrong person."  
  
"Oh, please," Morrison said scathingly as he tossed the paper aside. "I have seen Hardy. And this boy looks nothing like him. No, this is Tom's son. He looks just like his father."  
  
"Does this mean we still grab him?" Moran asked from his chair by the window.  
  
"Indeed," Morrison said. "And make sure Hardy knows that ridiculous article did not fool us."  
  
***  
  
It was going on six o'clock when Frank and Joe came downstairs ready to leave for their dates that evening. "I just got off the phone with Agent Boone," Fenton informed his sons. "He said Tom has been settled into a new location until the trial."  
  
"That's good," Joe remarked. "I still find it hard to believe he worked for that slime ball."  
  
"I know what you mean," Frank said. "I liked him too."  
  
"You two be careful tonight and have fun," Fenton said as the two prepared to leave.  
  
"We will," Frank said. "Are you sure you don't want to come with us to a movie or something?" he asked, feeling a bit guilty about leaving his dad home alone for the second night in a row.  
  
"I'm sure," Fenton replied, smiling. "You don't need an old fogey like me tagging along. Besides," he added, running a hand across the top of his head. "I have some research to do on my new case."  
  
"Night, Dad," Joe said as he followed Frank outside. Getting into the passenger side of the van, Joe flipped on the radio. "What are you two doing tonight?" Joe asked.  
  
"The Observatory," Frank replied. "I guess we will most likely see you two there."  
  
"If I can talk Vanessa into it," Joe agreed. "But after that, I think we will go our separate ways. It's been a while since it's been just the two of us," he added.  
  
"I know what you mean," Frank replied. "I think Callie is getting tired of double dating too."  
  
Frank dropped Joe off at Vanessa's, making sure he got inside before pulling away. Even though the article had come out early that morning and there was no way it couldn't been seen by at least one of Morrison's men, Frank still kept a sharp eye out for the Toyota from the previous evening. He had scanned the neighborhood before leaving home and made sure they had not been followed. He left the Bender's feeling Joe was completely safe and made his way to Callie's house.  
  
***  
  
"Wow!" Vanessa said turning to look at Joe as he wrapped an arm around her waist. "It looks so big!"  
  
Joe laughed. He wasn't really one for astronomy but stargazing with the girl he loved was definitely high on his priority list. He nuzzled her neck as she turned to take another look.  
  
"Don't you two ever stop?" Callie demanded playfully as she and Frank joined them at the giant telescope.  
  
Joe growled and looked at her, his nose scrunched up in displeasure. "Can't you two ever get your timing right?" he retorted.  
  
Laughing, Vanessa kissed Joe's cheek. "Joe said you two were coming but I can't believe we beat you here," she said.  
  
"Callie's dad had something he wanted to show me," Frank explained their delay.  
  
"Well, it's all yours," Joe said, taking Vanessa's hand and pulling her away from the telescope. "We have plans."  
  
"Oh?" Callie asked, quirking an eyebrow.  
  
"Mmm-hmm," Joe stated with a nod. "We are going to the movies. Alone."  
  
Joe and Vanessa left Frank and Callie and headed back toward town. "How about something to eat at Barney's Burgers before we head to the movies?" suggested Joe as they neared the restaurant.  
  
"Sure," Vanessa agreed and pulled into the parking lot.  
  
Thirty minutes later they were almost ready to leave and Vanessa excused herself to the ladies' room. "Joe, would you mind if I canceled on you tonight?" Vanessa asked a bit hesitantly after she returned.  
  
"No," Joe replied at once. How could he? He knew he had canceled on her often enough. "Aren't you feeling well?"  
  
"Not really," she replied as she let Joe take her hand and lead her from the restaurant. "I'll drop you off at home."  
  
"No," Joe said, frowning. "If you aren't feeling well then you shouldn't be alone," he said, knowing her mom was out on a date of her own tonight.  
  
"No, I'm fine," Vanessa hastened to assure him. "It's just uh, a female thing," she ended, blushing.  
  
"Oh," Joe said, blushing as well. "Okay, then. If you're sure you are going to be all right?"  
  
Vanessa dropped Joe off at home with a promise to meet him in the parking lot at school the next morning. Joe watched her drive away before turning and heading inside. He entered the kitchen and grinned. The television was loud enough so that he could tell his father was watching a western. Guess Dad wasn't in the mood for research, he thought as he pushed open the door that connected the small dining room to the kitchen.  
  
Stepping through, his eyes widened in shock as he saw his father sitting tied to one of the dinning room chairs with a gag firmly in place. "Dad!" Joe exclaimed, rushing forward.  
  
Fenton shook his head frantically and Joe came to a stop. He wondered why was his dad shaking his head a second before a wet cloth found its way over his face.  
  
Joe reached up to pull it away but his arms were grabbed in a vice-like grip and the cloth pushed harder against his nose and mouth. His vision began to blur as he grew dizzy. The last thing he saw before he passed out were his dad's terrified eyes staring at him. 


	6. Chapter 6

"Hungry?" Frank asked as he and Callie pulled away from the Observatory.  
  
"Yes," she replied, grinning at Frank.  
  
"Mr. Pizza? Barney's Burgers? Alan's Cafe? Or the Klondike?" Frank gave her a choice of restaurants.  
  
"Mr. Pizza," Callie answered and saw Frank's lips turn down slightly. "I know, we will probably run into the gang there and you wanted to spend the evening alone but we can be alone after we eat," she said.  
  
"Works for me," Frank replied, smiling as he glanced at her. "As long as we do get to spend some time alone."  
  
"You can be so romantic," Callie cooed, leaning her head against his alarm.  
  
Frank grinned but never responded. If you think I'm romantic now just wait until your birthday, he thought as his grin became a full-blown smile.  
  
"Over here!" shouted Biff as Frank and Callie entered the restaurant.  
  
Frank and Callie made their way over to a corner booth where Biff and Liz were waiting on their order. "Where is everyone?" Callie asked as she slid in the booth followed by Frank.  
  
Liz shrugged. "Guess they had other plans," she replied, her gaze falling onto Frank. "Well?" she demanded before Frank had a chance to open his mouth to greet her and Biff.  
  
Frank laughed. "Well....thanks," he said. "The article was perfect. Dad thought you did an excellent job."  
  
Liz blushed. "Really?" she asked, flattered.  
  
Frank nodded. "You gave enough information so that no one could mistake Joe for anyone else and yet you kept all our cases and mishaps out of it. Thanks," he said again.  
  
"It was my pleasure," Liz replied, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "I only wish I could have interviewed you too."  
  
"Some other time, perhaps?" Frank suggested.  
  
"I will hold you to that," she promised.  
  
"I don't doubt it for a second," Frank responded in a friendly tone as he rolled his eyes. Everyone knew Liz never forgot the promise of an interview or lost the scent of a story.  
  
Callie and Frank hung out at Mr. Pizza for an hour and a half then left their friends and headed to the town park where they spent the next hour swinging and lying on the bleachers looking up at the night sky.  
  
"I wish this night didn't have to end but it is getting late and we have school tomorrow," Frank said, standing up and pulling Callie to her feet.  
  
"It's been a wonderful night," Callie breathed as Frank leaned in close to her. She put her arms around his neck and pulled him down until their lips met. When they broke apart they headed back to the van without a word.  
  
At Callie's house, Frank walked her to the door and kissed her again. "Thanks for a perfect evening," Callie said softly, looking up into his brown eyes.  
  
"It was only perfect because you were with me," Frank returned and kissed her one more time. "I'll see you at school tomorrow," he said and left as soon a she turned away and went inside, closing the door behind her.  
  
Frank arrived home at ten minutes after eleven. Hope I don't get in trouble for being late, he thought. He unlocked the kitchen door and opened the refrigerator. He pulled out a bottle of water and downed it then tossed the empty bottle into the trash before leaving the kitchen. He froze in shock when he pushed open the door.  
  
"Dad!" he shouted and rushed forward to remove the gag from his father's mouth.  
  
"They took your brother," Fenton rasped through dry lips as Frank began untying him.  
  
"How long ago?" Frank demanded.  
  
"At least two hours," Fenton replied.  
  
"But why?" Frank asked, finishing the knots about his father's wrists and starting on his ankles. "Surely they saw the article."  
  
"They did," Fenton replied grimly. "Unfortunately, it only made them more sure that Joe was Leland's son."  
  
"Why?" Frank asked again.  
  
"Apparently Morrison knows what I look like and said I could have at least changed Joe's physical appearance if I was going to pretend he was my son in order to protect him," Fenton said with a scowl. It was a sore spot that Joe hadn't even inherited his cheekbones from him but he did look a lot like his mother and, if possible, that only made Fenton love Joe all that much more.  
  
"We've got to get in touch with Tom," said Frank. "We have to get Joe back before the trial or stop Tom from testifying."  
  
"I know," agreed Fenton standing up now that he had been released only to lurch unsteadily and sink back onto the chair.  
  
"Stay there," ordered Frank as he headed to the kitchen. He returned in seconds with a glass of water for his father.  
  
Fenton downed the water and set the glass on the table moving his ankles to try and get some blood circulating. Frank handed his dad his cell phone and Fenton dialed Agent Boone's number.  
  
"Joe was taken by Morrison's men," Fenton informed the agent and gave an account of the evening's events. "We have to talk to Leland," he ended.  
  
"Not you," responded Boone tersely. "You are probably being watched. Is Frank there?"  
  
"Yes," acknowledged Fenton.  
  
"Have him meet me at my office downtown," Boone instructed. "We'll go see him together," he said before hanging up.  
  
Fenton returned Frank his cell phone and repeated what Boone had said. "Be careful," he cautioned his eldest son.  
  
"I will," promised Frank as he exited the house through the kitchen.  
  
Frank climbed behind the wheel of the van and put the key in the ignition. His wrist twisted as he moved to start the vehicle but he paused before actually turning it. Leaving the motor off he quickly pulled his cell phone from its place on his belt and called Callie.  
  
"Hi, Babe," he said when she picked up and gave the universal greeting. "I hope you weren't already in bed."  
  
"Just on my way," she replied, her voice laced with concern. "What's wrong?"  
  
"They got Joe," he said. "I'm on my way to meet someone now who may be able to help us get him back. Let Vanessa and the gang know in the morning, okay?" he requested.  
  
"Of course," Callie replied. "I hope you find him soon."  
  
"Me too," Frank agreed feverently. "Love you. Night."  
  
"Night," Callie said as Frank hung up without waiting for her response. She hung up the phone and said a silent prayer for Joe's safe return before heading to her bedroom.  
  
Frank reached the FBI headquarters as Agent Boone was getting out of his car. Boone waited for Frank to park and alight before walking over to meet him. "Your dad once mentioned that you were a licensed pilot," he said.  
  
"That's right," acknowledged Frank with a curious expression.  
  
"Ever flown a chopper?" Boone inquired.  
  
"Yes, Sir," answered Frank. "I took my first solo flight three months ago. Excuse me," he continued. "But why do you want to know?"  
  
"Because there are only three people who know where Leland is being housed," explained Boone. "The two agents guarding him, and myself. If you can fly us there then we can keep his whereabouts strictly on a need to know basis."  
  
Frank nodded. "Good," Boone said. "The chopper is on the roof. Let's go. I'll give you directions once we're airborne."  
  
Two hours later they landed on a small airfield that belonged to a dust cropping farm. "Stay here while I arrange for transportation," Boone ordered Frank.  
  
Frank got out of the chopper and looked around. They seemed to be in the middle of nowhere but in reality they were only fifteen miles from Conover which, Frank admitted ruefully, was in the middle of nowhere although it did host an annual festival that drew in a large crowd every Fourth of July.  
  
He waited, seemingly patiently, for Boone's return but inside his mind was running at full tilt. What if Tom wouldn't help them get Joe back? Not an option, Frank vowed firmly albeit silently. And then a truly terrifying thought occurred to him. What if Tom couldn't help them?  
  
Would Tom know the location of Morrison's headquarters? It was entirely possible, even probable, that Morrison had moved his base of operations since Leland's defection. His stomach hurting from the mental knots binding him it was with a deep sigh of relief he saw Boone returning.  
  
"Let's go," Boone shouted to Frank from a distance. Frank ran to meet him. "The safe house is about twenty miles from here," he informed Frank. "We'll be there in no time."  
  
They got in an old black jeep and headed southwest. When Frank thought they must have passed the place Boone made a turn onto a dirt road. "There it is," Boone told Frank as an old farmhouse came into view.  
  
Frank let out a sigh. Soon they would have some answers. I hope! he thought just before the farmhouse exploded into flames! 


	7. Chapter 7

Joe wiggled his nose as sandpaper rubbed against its tip. He moved his head sideways and moaned. Why did they always have to use chloroform? he wondered, feeling the nausea rising in him.  
  
He jerked his head and opened his eyes. Sandpaper? He couldn't help but give a little laugh as he realized the 'sandpaper' was the tongue of a frisky little kitten. Joe shook his head and tried to rise. The kitten jumped off Joe and landed on the floor then went scampering for the safety of darkness beneath the dresser.  
  
Joe looked down when he couldn't sit up and saw a length of nylon rope criss-crossing his body tying him to the bed he was on. He tried twisting but the rope was a snug fit and wouldn't give. His hands, arms and legs had been bound close to his body with gray tape. The rope was obviously only an added measure to keep him in a prone position.  
  
Joe looked around his prison. It was a nice room even if a bit girlish with lupine walls and deep purple drapes covering what he assumed (from their length and width) to be balcony doors.  
  
There was a dresser and mirror against the wall nearest him and scattered around the rest of the remainder of the room were a desk and chair and a stereo system. There were two doors on the opposite end of the room, one leading into a bathroom and the other possibly no more than a closet.  
  
Joe grunted and tried once more to wiggle free as the kitten watched, its eyes glowing from the reflected light entering the room from the hall via the open door to Joe's left. With an angry sigh Joe gave up his struggles. At least they haven't gagged me, he thought. Yet!  
  
He opened his mouth and screamed at the top of his lungs. "HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  
  
He held his breath and waited. Seconds later he heard unhurried footsteps coming his way and soon a tall man with green eyes and wavy brown hair stood silhouetted in the doorway. The man reached out and flipped on the light switch.  
  
Joe blinked as the bright light blinded him briefly. Focusing, he glared at his captor. "Who are you?" demanded Joe although he already knew.  
  
"Cash Morrison," the man replied coming close enough to stare down into Joe's face. "The question is..." he smiled thinly at Joe, his green eyes hard. "Who are you?"  
  
Joe swallowed. Should he tell the truth now that they had him? Why not? "Joe Hardy," Joe replied, his chin jutting up defiantly as he spoke.  
  
Morrison laughed. "I think not," he said once his laughter had died. "Joseph Leland, perhaps."  
  
"Check my wallet!" Joe retorted.  
  
"I have," Morrison confessed, removing Joe's wallet from his own side pocket and opening it up. "Hardy did try to give you a good cover," he continued, pulling out cards one at a time. "Driver's license, gym club ID. Even a credit card," he added with a hearty laugh. "For a seventeen year old?" He laughed long and hard before sobering up. "No. Like the article, these too are phony. I know your father, kid, and you look exactly as he must have at your age," he ended, tossing the wallet and its contents to the floor beside the bed.  
  
"Fine, I'm Joe Leland," Joe said, deciding he stood a better chance of surviving the next few hours if he weren't Fenton Hardy's son. "What do you want with me?"  
  
"Your father betrayed me," Morrison informed Joe. "But there is time for him to put things right. You are my, shall I say, insurance policy?"  
  
"What do you mean?" demanded Joe looking at him warily.  
  
"It's nothing personal, Kid," Morrison told him with a small smile. "It's entirely business. Once Tom does what I want him to do then you will be released."  
  
"And if he doesn't?"   
  
"It won't come to that," Morrison assured him. "I'm sure he loves his son."   
  
"He's in the witness protection program," Joe said. "You won't be able to let him know you have me so keeping me a prisoner is kind of pointless."  
  
"That's not a problem," Morrsion stated.  
  
"You never answered my question," Joe pushed. "If he doesn't do what you want, what are you going to do with me?"  
  
"You will have to die," Morrison replied looking at Joe sympathetically. "When I tell your father your life depends on his cooperation he has to believe me." He held up his hands as if to say 'what can I do?'. "A man is only as good as his word, after all."  
  
Morrison left the room and returned to the den where his lackeys were gathered. "Has Foster reported in yet?" he demanded.  
  
"No," Picard answered. "But we did pick up something on Hardy's line."  
  
"Hardy's son called," Grayhaven picked up. "He said the safe house blew up. The remains of two bodies were found."  
  
"The Fed and a patsy Foster put in to take Tom's place," Morrison guessed, smiling. "Good. Good. If we have Tom then we won't have to blackmail him."  
  
"What about his kid?" Moran asked, flicking a piece of lint off of his shoulder.  
  
"We'll dispose of them both." 


	8. Chapter 8

Fenton closed the door after Frank left and shut his eyes. Leaning his head against the door frame he said a prayer then returned to the dining room to clean the mess made during his capture and Joe's abduction. There was no point in calling the police because there was nothing they could do to help.  
  
It was going on one am when Fenton locked up and turned on the alarm system. He went upstairs and got ready for bed then made sure the phone by the bed was working before lying down.  
  
He lay staring at the ceiling in silence. The ticking of the clock was the only sound in the still room and it finally lulled him to sleep.  
  
***  
  
Boone slammed on the brakes and sent the car into a spin. They came to a stop seconds later and Boone and Frank got out of the car and stood staring at the burning farmhouse. "They couldn't have survived," Frank commented as smoke billowed up and engulfed the sky.  
  
Boone never responded. His face grim, he pulled out his cell phone. Frank leaned against the jeep and watched as the fire turned the house into ashes. By the time the fire department and more federal agents arrived there was nothing left but the cement foundation.  
  
"Stay here," Frank was ordered. "I'll be back as soon as I know something," promised Boone.  
  
Frank nodded. Patience wasn't a virtue he normally possessed when his brother's life was at stake but he knew under the circumstances any involvement by him could only negate the expediency of the investigation so he stayed where he was and waited.  
  
He thought about calling his dad but until he actually knew something about Tom then there was no reason. He pulled out a new pack of gum from his shirt pocket and removed a piece. By the time he saw Boone returning there were but two sticks left and even the piece he had in his mouth had become tasteless. Frank quickly swallowed it and leapt to his feet. "Well?" he demanded as Boone came to a stop in front of him.  
  
"It was definitely arson," Boone informed Frank. "Forensics was able to uncover the remains of two individuals," he continued. "Probably our men."  
  
"So whoever set the fire took Leland," Frank stated, feeling sick. Boone nodded. "I had better call Dad."  
  
"You do that," Boone affirmed. "I have a few more things to see to before we can leave." With that Boone left Frank alone.  
  
When the phone rang at the Hardy house at daybreak Fenton's eyes flew open and he jerked to a sitting position, grabbing the handset before the second ring had completed. "Hello?" he said in a hoarse voice; his heart beating rapidly.  
  
"Dad?" asked Frank aware something wasn't right. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing," answered Fenton as his heart rate slowed. "I was having a nightmare." Joe died! he remembered vividly giving a shudder that racked his entire body. They had been too late to save him.  
  
"Well, we have a live one," Frank said. "Tom's gone!" He brought his father up to date on the fire.  
  
Fenton let out a deep sigh. "Come back home," he said, wearily running a hand through his already rumpled brown hair. "There's nothing more you can do there."  
  
"I will," said Frank. "As soon as Agent Boone finishes up," he added before saying goodbye.  
  
Fenton replaced the receiver on the set and tossed aside his sheet. Standing up, he stretched and then plucked his clothes from the chair by the bathroom door and entered the bathroom. When he exited he looked at the phone by the bedside and debated calling Laura. Although she would be angry once she found out Joe had been kidnapped and he had not called to let her know, he decided not to worry her. He made the bed then exited the room and went down the hall to his office.  
  
He logged onto the Net then went straight to the FBI website and punched in his passwords. Soon he was printing every drop of information the FBI had on Morrison; Moran; Grayhaven and Picard.  
  
Fenton gathered the papers together and went downstairs. He set the papers on the kitchen table and put on a pot of coffee. Flipping off the alarm he opened the kitchen door and picked up the morning paper then went back inside and set it down on the table and pulled a pen and notepad from a drawer near the door. Two cups of coffee later, he was halfway through the sheaf of papers when the phone rang.  
  
"Hardy residence," Fenton answered after getting up and crossing the kitchen to get it.  
  
"Oh, hi, Mr. Hardy," Vanessa's voice came through. "Callie told me about Joe. Have you heard anything?"  
  
"Not yet," he answered, running a hand through his brown hair, a habit Frank had taken from him. "I'll have Frank call you when we do," he promised then bid her goodbye.  
  
Fenton looked at the table then at the coffee pot where what was left had turned a deeper shade of black from setting for over two hours. Wrinkling his nose in distaste he emptied the coffee and rinsed out the carafe. Then he emptied the dirty filter and replaced it with a fresh one and measured out more coffee. Once he had a fresh pot started he went to the bathroom. When he came out he could hear a loud incessant beating coming from the kitchen door. He hurried back to the kitchen only to come to a sudden standstill when he saw who was knocking so loudly on the door. Through the door's window Fenton saw the face of Tom Leland! 


	9. Chapter 9

Fenton rushed to the door and unlocked it then yanked it open and let Tom inside. "How did you get here?" Fenton demanded as Tom sat down heavily on one of the chairs.  
  
"I was starting to go to the bathroom but Agent Foster was already in there talking on his cell phone," explained Tom. "He was saying something about not needing Joe because they would have me. I didn't know if the other agent was involved or not so I took off and thumbed my way back here." He stopped speaking as he finally noticed the dark circles beneath Fenton's eyes. "Is Joe at school?" he asked with bated breath.  
  
Fenton shook his head. "Morrison's men grabbed him last night," he informed the man who seemed to have grown attached to Joe in the brief amount of time he had known him. "Frank went to the safe house to get you."  
  
"Call him," Tom ordered. "He could be walking into a world of trouble."  
  
Fenton shook his head and told his unexpected guest about the fire. "Frank said there were two dead in the fire," he ended, a thoughtful expression on his face. "How many guards did you have?"  
  
"Just two," replied Tom. "Foster and Agent Garrison."  
  
"Foster probably killed someone to take his place," Fenton hypothesized. "Want some coffee?" he asked.  
  
"Please," Tom accepted gratefully.  
  
"Cereal?" Fenton offered seeing Tom's hungry expression.  
  
Tom nodded. "Thank you."  
  
Fenton poured two cups of coffee then busied himself gathering a bowl, spoon, cereal and the milk. "We're going to need your help getting Joe back," he said once Tom had started eating.  
  
"Anything," Tom offered. "He's a good kid and shouldn't be in this mess."  
  
"Yes, he is," acknowledged Fenton. "And that's why he's in this predicament. He helps anyone who needs it."  
  
"That can get him killed," responded Tom with a frown.  
  
"Believe me, I know," Fenton said with a heavy sigh as he thought of all the times Joe had been seriously injured because he was helping others. "First I need to know how you and the others handled the captive family members."  
  
"We didn't hurt them," Tom said, looking Fenton in the eyes as he sat down across from them. "I'm sure Joe is all right and if I don't testify at the trial a week from Monday, they'll let him go."  
  
"You have to testify," said Fenton. "Joe wouldn't be able to live with himself if Morrison and his men remained free to hurt innocent people because of him," he explained. "Don't get me wrong. I would prefer you not testify if that were the only way to ensure Joe's safe return but that's not who my son is. He would rather suffer a thousand torments than see an innocent person hurt."  
  
Tom gave Fenton a lopsided smile. "Yeah, I kind of got that impression. Sooo, since my not testifying isn't an option; let's get Joe back before the trial."  
  
Fenton returned the smile as tom began to talk. "If the person was a flight risk, like I'm assuming Joe would be, he would be kept tied up and within shouting distance at all times. He would be checked every fifteen minutes to ensure he didn't escape. But he would also be given three meals a day and allowed free four times a day under armed supervision to shower and go to the bathroom."  
  
Fenton released a relieved sigh and gave the first relaxed smile he had since Tom's arrival Friday afternoon. "What about surveillance?" he inquired. "Was there anyway to make sure the target was doing what he was told?'  
  
"Someone would follow the target," Tom began but was interrupted by Fenton.  
  
"Not an option in this case," Fenton stated. "No one is going to find you. I'll make sure of it personally this time."  
  
"And we would keep the house bugged," Tom continued with only a slight smile to show his acknowledgement of Fenton's statement.  
  
"The house?" demanded Fenton paling. Why hadn't he thought of that? Did Morrison already know of Tom's return?  
  
"Not all of it," Tom quickly added. "Just a few rooms and the phones."  
  
Fenton stood up. "We better search the place," he said. "Let's start in here," he suggested. "If this room is clean then they won't know you're here and can use that to our advantage."  
  
After searching the kitchen and finding nothing the two men explored the rest of the house together with neither man speaking. Fenton checked the phones and found every one of them had a listening device placed in the receiver. The only other bugs uncovered were in the living room, the den, and Fenton's office.  
  
The two returned to the kitchen as Frank was closing the door. "Tom!" exclaimed Frank in shocked relief. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Fenton filled Frank in on his and Tom's conversation and told him about the bugs. "This is good," said Frank, smiling. "I can call you from my cell phone and tell you I'm almost home," he said. "We can talk about ways of finding Tom and his son."  
  
"Son?" queried Tom, lifting a brow.  
  
"They have Joe," Fenton explained. "It's imperative they believe he is your son or they will kill him. As long as they believe he is their leverage he's safe."  
  
Moran shut the tape recorder off. He had just played the last conversation between Fenton and Frank Hardy for Morrison.  
  
"So, they think we have Leland," Morrison said lifting his hands and touching his fingertips together thoughtfully as he sat in his chair with the elbows resting on the mahogany handles.  
  
"You were right," Grayhaven put in. "He really is in Tom's son."  
  
"Was there ever any doubt?" retorted Morrison with the quirk of an eyebrow.  
  
"What now?" asked Picard.  
  
"Maybe the kid knows where his dad went," Moran suggested.  
  
"An excellent suggestion," agreed Morrison. "I think I will have a chat with our guest."  
  
"Hello, Joesph," Morrison greeted Joe as he entered the bedroom with the tape recorder in one hand. "I have something I would like you to hear." He played the recording.  
  
Joe kept a straight face throughout the conversation aware it was being preformed to keep him alive. He knew if they believed he really was Fenton's son, he would be dead by now. "So you know the truth," Joe stated when Morrison stopped the tape. "And you have proof that Tom's my father and not Fenton. Why bother telling me?"  
  
"As you heard, the Hardys and the FBI believe we have your father," Morrison began.  
  
"So?" Joe asked belligerently.  
  
"I want to know where your father went," Morrison stated.  
  
"So you can kill him?" demanded Joe, glaring.  
  
"So we don't have to kill you," Morrison answered "If your dad doesn't know we have you then how can he do what is required of him for your safe return?" he asked reasonably.  
  
"I can't help you," Joe told him. "I don't know where the FBI took him." Morrison told him where the safe house was located. "I don't know anyone there," Joe said with a shrug. "Maybe he will come back to Bayport."  
  
"For your sake, I hope so," Morrison replied before leaving the room. 


	10. Chapter 10

"I hope they bought that," said Frank when his dad returned to the kitchen.  
  
"Me too," returned Fenton and held out his hand for Frank's cell. "May I?"  
  
Frank turned over his cell phone and sat quietly with Tom while Fenton called a close friend and associate, Sam Radley, to help. When he had finished, he gave Frank back his cell. "Sam will be here in a little while," Fenton said sitting down. "He will take you somewhere only he and I know about and keep you there until the trial."  
  
"But what about Joe?" demanded Frank crossly. "He comes first. If we don't get him back then Tom can't testify."  
  
"Frank, he has too," Fenton stated softly. "Your brother would never stand..."  
  
"No!" shouted Frank before his dad could finish. "I don't care how Joe feels about it. At least he would be alive to feel."  
  
"We'll get Joe back," Fenton promised his eldest son, putting a hand on his shoulder. "But giving in to their demands isn't the way."  
  
Frank shook off his father's hand, leapt to his feet and raced out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He didn't stop until he had reached the safety of his room and slammed the door. How could his father put Morrison's freedom, or lack thereof, over Joe?  
  
Frank stormed into the bathroom and slammed that door as well. He stopped in front of the bathroom mirror and grabbed the sink with both hands as he looked at himself. Relax! he ordered himself. He was letting his emotions take control and that was unacceptable. That was what usually got Joe into hot water and he couldn't afford to lose control when it was Joe's life on the line.  
  
A shower! That's what I need, he thought. Not only would it wash away the grime but also hopefully part of the tension he was feeling. Forty minutes alter he exited the bathroom to find his father sitting on his bed, the framed photograph of Frank and Joe that Frank kept on his nightstand in his hands. Fenton looked up as Frank cleared his throat and set the frame back on the nightstand.  
  
"We're going to find your brother," Fenton stated calmly but with certainty.  
  
"I know," answered Frank. "I'm sorry I lost my temper but if it does come down to Tom's testimony or Joe's life you know which I will choose."  
  
Fenton nodded. "Sam picked up Tom and they left about five minutes ago," he informed Frank.  
  
"What do we do now?" asked Frank, his brown eyes woeful.  
  
"Research," answered Fenton. "I started early this morning but put it on hold when Tom showed up." He looked at Frank with a frown on his face. "Why don't you run out and get us some lunch?" he suggested. He would prefer Frank to get some rest but knew better than to even suggest such a thing. "After that I will tell you what I have and then we will work out a plan of action," he stated. "Plus, we need your friends to come here after school. We are definitely going to need their help."  
  
Frank opened his mouth to say something but closed it again because he could already hear his father's footsteps retreating into his office down the hall. No wonder Joe says I'm impossible sometimes, thought Frank, realizing his father had just done to him what he did to Joe on occasion.  
  
Frank went downstairs and left the house. He jumped in the van and drove to Sanchez, a Mexican restaurant three blocks away from home, and ordered some take out for his father and himself. Twenty minutes later he returned and began unloading the meal onto plates.  
  
"Dad!" he shouted. "I'm back!" No answer and no footsteps advertising his forthcoming presence. Frank ceased setting the table and slowly made his way into the dining room, alert for any sign of trouble. On he went into the living room and upstairs when there was still no sign of his father.  
  
He stopped at the entrance to his father's office and saw his father sitting in his chair with his head leaned back and his eyes closed. "Dad?" Frank asked in panic as he entered the office.  
  
Fenton opened his eyes and looked bleakly into Frank's. "Sam was forced off the road," he said in a hoarse voice. "Tom was taken and Sam was shot." 


	11. Chapter 11

Moran and another man Joe hadn't seen before arrived in his 'prison' and released him. "Bathroom break, kid," the new guy said, each word coming out with a little wheeze through his large nose.  
  
Joe lay quietly until he was unbound then sat up slowly, his arms filled with the prickling sensation that comes when one's circulation is returning to normal.  
  
"Don't you have to go?" Wheezy asked, his hazel eyes looking at Joe curiously.  
  
"My circulation is trying to start back up," snapped Joe glaring at him. "It's not my fault you people believe in overkill."  
  
Several minutes later Joe was brought back from the bathroom and made to lie back down. "Couldn't I be tied to a chair instead?" he begged. "I'm getting bedsores."  
  
"Forget it, Kid," Moran replied. "But we will leave the tape off," he compromised.  
  
"Better than nothing," Joe grumbled as the men began tying him back up.  
  
"All secure," Moran informed Morrison, going back into the living room after stopping to use the bathroom himself.  
  
"Good, good," Morrison answered. "It was a brilliant idea of yours to bug Radley's phone," he congratulated Moran. "Hardy did contact him and, as it turns out, the kid really is Hardy's son."  
  
"He is?" demanded Moran, his eyes widening in amazement.  
  
"Indeed," acknowledged Morrison. "Hardy obviously knows his lines are bugged and that's why the call he placed to Radley wasn't made on either of them and that means he wanted us to believe the boy is Leland's son."  
  
"So we wouldn't kill him, I suppose?" Moran asked.  
  
"And we won't," Morrison said. "Not just yet at any rate. He may come in handy."  
  
"Where are the others?"  
  
"They've gone to intercept Radley and Leland," Morrison answered. "Radley will be eliminated and Leland will be joining us here."  
  
Joe began struggling with the ropes as soon as he was left alone. Thankfully, when he was being tied up this time he remembered a trick his father had taught him about taking a deep breath to expand his muscles and then releasing it when he was ready for the ropes to go slack.   
  
Letting his breath out and relaxing, the ropes gave a little. Joe twisted his wrists and curled his fingers and slipped free of the ropes binding his wrists together in front of him. Next he pulled at the ropes tying him to the bed and slipped his hands out from beneath them. Then he sat up by pushing the ropes over his shoulders and head.  
  
The maneuver tightened the ropes around his legs but only briefly. Within minutes he was free and standing. He hurried to the drapes and pulled them apart. "Great," he moaned softly when he saw they had been for decorative purposes only and there was nothing but a wall behind them.   
  
Closing the drapes, Joe went to the door, his footsteps muffled by the lush carpet and the fact that his shoes had been removed and were nowhere to be seen. He peered around the doorway. Seeing no one, he made his way down the hall and paused at the top of the steps as he heard Morrison speaking.  
  
Sam! thought Joe, his blue eyes wide with fear. He had to get away and warn him. He crept silently down the stairs, stopping and catching his breath as Wheezy came out of a room and headed out the front door. Where's he going? wondered Joe as he started breathing again.  
  
Joe hurried the rest of the way down, pausing briefly to make sure he could slip by the open doorway unnoticed before easing the front door open and slipping outside after checking to make sure Wheezy wasn't hanging around.  
  
Joe saw no sign of the missing thug or any other human for that matter. Maybe I didn't think this through, he thought as he looked around and saw the vast array that Mother Nature had arranged for the landscape. In front of him was a rocky road; one that would surely tear up the tender flesh on the soles of his feet, and beyond that trees and green hills.  
  
Joe looked to his left and saw the landscape fade into a watery one with no boat in sight. To his right was more water. His lips set in a thin line and his blue eyes revealing his determination to find some means of escape, Joe descended the steps and took off through the grass to look around the house.  
  
He came to a sudden stop just before rounding the corner of the house as Wheezy's distinct voice carried through the air. Peering around the corner he saw three jeeps, one black, one blue, and one red and also the black Toyota from Friday night. He could easily have hotwired one if not for the three thugs, all with guns tucked neatly in holsters beneath their arms or at the side of their belts.  
  
Resigning himself to being a captive, Joe returned to the front door and snuck back inside. He had to get a message to Frank and his dad but he wasn't sure how. He couldn't call home because his captors were monitoring all calls to and from his house but perhaps he could have someone give them a message?  
  
Joe went in search of a phone. Finding one near a closet just off the kitchen, he dialed a number and crossed his fingers. Since Sam's phone had been bugged it was possible his other friends' phones had as well. But since the phones had been bugged when they thought he was Tom's son then maybe they hadn't thought to bug the phone of Frank's girlfriend.   
  
"Hello," greeted a feminine voice on the other end.  
  
"Mrs. Shaw, this is Joe Hardy," Joe said keeping his voice low. "I need a huge favor."  
  
"Are you all right?' Mrs. Shaw demanded. Callie had told her this morning that Joe had been kidnapped the night before.  
  
"Yes, ma'am," responded Joe softly. "But I'm pretty much trapped. Could you get a message to Frank or my dad without going in my house or calling them?"  
  
"Of course," she answered, eager to help in any way she could.  
  
"Tell Dad that Sam is in danger. They know what Dad has planned. Also give them this number," he added and read it off of the phone. "I don't know where I am but they should be able to trace the number and find out," he ended.  
  
"I'll take care of it at once," Mrs. Shaw promised.  
  
"Thank you," Joe said, genuine gratitude and relief coming through loud and clear in his voice. Joe was on his way back upstairs when he heard a car coming up the drive. Morrison and Moran came out of the living room before Joe had time to hide.  
  
"Hold it right there," Moran ordered whipping out his gun and aiming it at Joe.  
  
"Honestly, Joseph," Morrison said in a bored tone. "There isn't anywhere for you to go."  
  
"Really?" sneered Joe letting the men think he had been on his way down for the first time.  
  
"Bring him," Morrison ordered Moran then went outside.  
  
Moran waved his gun at Joe and Joe returned down the stairs and preceded him outside. The three of them waited for the car to come to a stop. Grayhaven exited followed by Leland and Picard.  
  
The driver looked out of the window at Morrison. "I can't go back to the FBI headquarters," he said. "My cover is shot."  
  
"We know," Moran said. "Park the car and come on inside."  
  
"No," Morrison countermanded the order. "I think we should go ahead and eliminate our problems. Put them in the car," he instructed. "We'll terminate them at the usual disposal site." 


	12. Chapter 12

"Sam?" asked Frank in shock. "Is..." he stopped and swallowed hard before continuing. "Is he dead?"  
  
"No," was the reply and Frank exhaled. "He's going to be fine but he will have to stay in the hospital for a few days," Fenton continued. "But they have Leland now."  
  
"And they don't need Joe," said Frank; a strong pain stabbing at his heart.  
  
"Unless we can convince them Joe is really my son," Fenton said. "Before they had to believe he was Tom's son because they needed Tom's cooperation. Now we have to convince Morrison he needs mine."  
  
The take-out forgotten, Frank sat down in the chair in front of his father's desk and reached for some of the papers scattered about.  
  
A loud, frantic banging on the back door interrupted their concentration some time later. Both Hardys raced out of the room and downstairs to the kitchen. Frank reached the door first and was shocked to see Callie's mother standing there with her fist raised as she prepared to knock again.  
  
"Mrs.." began Frank but was silenced as Mrs. Shaw put a hand over his mouth and shook her head. She took Frank's arm in her other hand and pulled him outside and away from the house; not stopping until they were beneath the large elm tree that graced the back yard. There she released her hold on the boy.  
  
"What's the matter?" inquired Fenton who had followed the two to the tree.  
  
Mrs. Shaw looked up, checking to see if there were anyone hiding there then looked around the yard, She sighed in relief when she saw no one lurking about. "Joe called me," she said.  
  
"Joe?" demanded Frank, joy reflecting in his eyes. "Are you sure it was him? Where was he?"  
  
"Easy, Son," Fenton said, placing a calming hand on Frank's shoulders as Mrs. Shaw took a step back from the overzealous youth.  
  
Mrs. Shaw gave the Hardys all the information Joe had given her. "Sam's in the hospital," Frank informed her. "But he's going to be okay." He reached out and hugged Mrs. Shaw. "Thank you so much."  
  
"I hope you get him back soon," she said.  
  
"We will now," Fenton told her with a smile. "Thank you."  
  
As soon as she departed Fenton left and headed downtown to the police station. He didn't know how Morrison had found out about Sam and Tom but if he had somehow managed to tap into Frank's cell phone he wasn't going to take any chances that he could do it again. There was no way any calls made from the police station could be overheard and Ezra Collig, Bayport's tall and graying Chief of Police, would be only too willing to have the number traced. It was only a mater of time.  
  
Frank had wanted to go but Fenton had suggested he finish going over the papers in his office just in case something went wrong. As his father drove away, Frank tossed the Mexican take-out into the trash and returned upstairs.  
  
"Let the kid go," Tom begged Morrison as they headed down the rocky road.  
  
Morrison shot him a 'get real' look and turned his back on the two prisoners.  
  
"I'm sorry you got involved in this," said Tom looking over at Joe.  
  
"Shut up!" Morrison snarled.  
  
Tom fell silent and spent his time looking down at his hands while Joe watched the men in the car. Foster was driving with Morrison in the seat beside him. On Morrison's other side sat Moran who was facing him and Tom with his weapon aimed at Tom. Apparently, Moran felt Tom posed the biggest threat to them.  
  
Joe felt that he and Tom could easily overpower the three men once they had stopped but the problem was two more vehicles were following them. One held Picard and Wheezy and the last one held Grayhaven and one of the men Joe had seen by the jeeps earlier.  
  
Joe devoted his attention to the changing landscape outside. He had thought the area he was at before was uncivilized but that was nothing to compared to the wilderness they were now entering. The trees were disappearing to be replaced by boulders and as the jeep bounced along the unpaved road, Joe could see the tops of trees hundreds of feet down below them. Joe felt a little sick when he realized the uneven road didn't have any guardrails for safety. If they hit too hard they could veer off course and go tumbling down the mountain.  
  
Joe looked over at Tom who was still looking at his hands then up at Moran. Moran's attention was now divided between his prisoners and the scene outside his window. He was swallowing nervously and Joe could tell he was afraid of heights. Joe smothered a smile. This might work to their advantage if he could let Tom know he was planning something.  
  
Joe kept a furtive eye on Moran and when his gaze went once again to the window Joe nudged Tom's knee with his own and gave him hard look when Tom looked up.  
  
Tom dipped his head slightly to acknowledge his understanding then dropped his eyes once again. Joe could feel Ton tense up beside him as he prepared to spring into action without hesitation.  
  
They rode along for several more miles, most of it uphill, before coming to a stop. Joe had observed they had left the other two vehicles far behind because even in the areas where he could see for a good distance they had not been within sight. Still, he knew they didn't have much of a head start.  
  
Foster, Morrison and Moran exited the car and then Foster opened the back door for Tom and Joe to exit while Moran kept his gun ready. Tom got out and stood to one side and waited for Joe. As Joe got out his foot purposefully caught on the rim of the vehicle's door and he fell forward into Moran, knocking him off balance.  
  
Tom bent over and rammed Foster as hard as he could into the hood of the car. Foster rolled off the hood and fell to the hard ground as Morrison pulled his gun from its holster. Joe had managed to deliver an uppercut to Moran's right jaw that sent him to la-la land. Unfortunately, Moran's gun had gone flying when Joe fell into him so there was little Joe could do to stave off Morrison's armed attack. But then, only a little was enough as far as Joe was concerned. He grabbed a handful of rocks and threw them at the hand holding the gun. The impact wasn't enough to cause him to lose his grip but it did alter his aim and the bullet he fired at Tom missed and bounced off an outcrop of rocks a few feet away.  
  
Tom took advantage of Joe's distraction and took a step forward then kicked up, knocking the weapon from Morrison's hand as one of the other vehicles approached.  
  
Tom swung his still bound hands up and hit Morrison across the side of the face. Groggy, Morrison stumbled back, tripping over an ankle high stone and fell. "Let's move," Tom ordered Joe who had gotten gingerly to his feet.  
  
Joe bent down and yanked Morrison's shoes off and slipped them on before following Tom across the meager expanse of gravel and into the brush heading toward a cliff.  
  
Morrison sat up as the other two jeeps came to a stop. "Kill them!" he screamed at the men. Foster got to his feet and started to follow but Morrison called him back.  
  
"In case those two do get away, bring me Fenton Hardy's other son," Morrison ordered with smoldering eyes.  
  
Foster nodded and pulled Moran, who was just coming around, to his feet. The two men hopped in the last jeep and headed back to civilization. 


	13. Chapter 13

Frank finished the task his father had started and filed the new folders in the file cabinet. Next, he made a copy of the list of contacts he and his dad had made so that each of them would have a copy and placed his dad's copy beneath the computer keyboard. He folded the original and put it in the pocket on the front of his shirt.  
  
He turned off the light and exited the office as he heard the kitchen door open. Dad must be back, he thought and picked up his pace. He slowed down again and whipped out his cell phone when it began to ring via the little song Joe had programmed into it.  
  
"Frank, I should be home in about thirty more minutes," his father's voice came through. "Wait for me."  
  
"What?" hissed Frank coming to a complete standstill between the living room and the dining room. If Dad's still at the station, who just came in the kitchen?  
  
Before Frank could make up his mind on what he should do the kitchen door opened and Biff Hooper was framed in the entryway between the dining room and the kitchen. Frank let out a sigh of relief and his eyes flew automatically to the clock on the wall. Just enough time for his friends to have driven straight from school.  
  
Frank held a finger to his lips then motioned for Biff to go back into the kitchen. "Frank?" Fenton asked, his voice thick with concern.  
  
"Sorry, Dad," apologized Frank "I almost tripped over the jacket Biff left here the other night."  
  
"Hmm, Joe should really return it," Fenton replied knowing Frank was sending him the message that reinforcements were there.  
  
"Right," agreed Frank. "I'll see you in thirty minutes," he added and disconnected as he entered the kitchen.  
  
"Spill," ordered Phil who was leaning against the counter near the door.  
  
"How did you get in?" asked Frank curiously.  
  
"It wasn't locked," Chet informed him.  
  
Frank frowned. "We could have forgotten to lock it," he said, his forehead scrunched up.  
  
"But doubtful," Callie put his thought in vocal form.  
  
Frank nodded. "Phil, you, Callie and Vanessa look around in here for listening devices. The rest of you, let's search the place and make sure no one is here, but be quiet because some of the rooms are bugged."  
  
Ten minutes later everyone was gathered back in the kitchen. "Nothing in here," Phil informed Frank.  
  
"I guess we did just forget to lock the door," Frank admitted with a rueful grin. "Thanks for coming over."  
  
"Tell us what's happening," Vanessa demanded, her pretty face showing wrinkles from the worry she was feeling. "Have you heard from Joe's kidnappers?"  
  
"Yeah, " put in Chet. "Any leads?"  
  
"No, we haven't heard from Joe's kidnappers," Frank said. "But we did hear from Joe. Well, Callie's mom did anyway," Frank amended.  
  
"What?" gasped Callie, her brown eyes widening in shock.  
  
Smiling, Frank told everyone about Joe's phone call to Mrs. Shaw. "Why would he call us?" Callie asked in puzzlement.  
  
"Because he knew our lines were bugged and you're our closest neighbor whose number he knew?" Frank suggested with a shrug. "At any rate, dad's at headquarters now trying to get an address to go with the phone number."  
  
"So Joe should be home in time for school tomorrow?" Vanessa asked, her gray eyes lighting up.  
  
"Unless they move him before we can get there," Frank agreed. "And if they do, then we have a few leads to check out and for those we may need your help," he added, his lips dipping at the corners as the thought that they might not get Joe back took up residence in his mind.  
  
"Just let us know," Phil said to the agreement of all.  
  
"Dad should be here in a few minutes," Frank said, glancing at his wristwatch.  
  
"Then we'll leave," Biff said. "Let us know as soon as you two get back. With or without Joe," he added.  
  
Not long after his friends left Frank heard a car out front and looked out the window. He saw his dad pull into the garage and went to the garage via the kitchen to greet him.  
  
"Well?" he demanded as his father got out of the car.  
  
"The number belongs to a Mort Kline in Colorado," Fenton informed Frank. "He works for the CIA."  
  
"Someone in the CIA is on Morrison's payroll?" demanded Frank in disbelief.  
  
"No," answered Fenton. "Morrison must have put the number on the phones where Joe is being held in case he did get loose and manage to get a call out."  
  
"Then we're back to nothing," said Frank angrily, pushing the door to the kitchen back open and leading the way inside.  
  
"We still have the contacts from the files," Fenton said following Frank through the kitchen and into the dining room.  
  
"Oh, I finished that," Frank said, pulling the paper from his pocket and turning around to look at his dad as he continued walking backwards into the living room. Before he had a chance to fold the paper he felt something crash down on the back of his head. As he fell to the floor, his dad came face to face with two of Morrison's goons. 


	14. Chapter 14

Tom raced along at a frantic pace with Joe trying his best to keep up. Moran's shoes were two sizes larger than Joe was used to and kept trying to come off. The consequences of said action being fresh blisters on his ankles.  
  
"Come on," urged Tom, looking over his shoulder and seeing Joe lagging behind.  
  
"I'm trying," groaned Joe. "Grrr," he growled as he lifted his left foot high to climb over a rock only to have the shoe fall off.  
  
"Just a little bit further and we can stop long enough to fix your shoes and get these ropes off," promised Tom.  
  
Joe nodded as he rammed his foot back into the shoe and hurried to catch up. True to his word, Tom came to a stop a few minutes later and held his hands out for Joe to untie.  
  
"Sit down," Tom instructed Joe once his hands were free.  
  
Joe did as bid and took the shoes off, wincing when air hit the freshly popped blisters. "We need to cleanse them as soon as possible," said Tom. "But for now, I'm going to pad your ankles and toes and use some of the fibber from the rope to tighten them a bit."  
  
"Would we have learned this trick in class?" asked Joe with a grin as Tom finished.  
  
"Probably not," admitted Tom standing up. "But I have the feeling you are about to get a crash course in the advanced section. Ever been rock climbing without ropes?" he asked.  
  
"A couple of times," acknowledged Joe.  
  
"Gone downhill?"   
  
"Yeah," Joe said, his nose wrinkling. "It's the only down for us, isn't it?" he asked.  
  
Tom nodded. "We can't go back because they will be looking for us and they won't follow because they've never done it but..."  
  
"But they will probably be waiting for us at the bottom," finished Joe.  
  
"Right," agreed Tom. "Which is why we won't be going straight down."  
  
"You lead," Joe instructed as he stood up. "Too bad they had to take us away from the house," he continued. "I managed to get a call out with the phone number. Dad will have traced it by now," he ended glumly.  
  
"Don't take it so hard," Tom told him. "Morrison always puts fake numbers on his phones in case something like that does happen. Odds are you gave him the number belonging to a senator. He loves using the unlisted phone numbers of important people."  
  
"Great," grumbled Joe as they began their trek back to civilization.  
  
"They're still not home," complained Callie hanging up the phone later that evening. The youths had gathered at Mr. Pizza to await Frank's call, positive he would call at least one of them on their cell.  
  
"Maybe we should drive by," suggested Chet. "Frank could have forgotten; especially if they didn't find Joe or if Joe has been hurt."  
  
"No point in all of us going," said Biff. "Chet and I will go and let you guys know as soon as we find out something."  
  
Chet climbed into the passenger side of Biff's van while Biff got behind the wheel. A few minutes later Biff slowed to a snail's pace as they neared the Hardy residence.  
  
"We ought to look around," said Chet as he observed the unnatural darkness of the Hardy home. He knew they kept their lights on a timer when they were gone and the scene he was seeing didn't feel right to him.  
  
"Yeah, okay," agreed Biff stopping the van across the street from the Hardy home and putting it in park.  
  
The two boys scuttled across the street keeping a sharp watch for anyone lurking about. They checked the van and Mr. Hardy's car out front and the garage that normally housed Mrs. Hardy's Saturn. "They must have gone with the police or FBI," Biff whispered although he didn't believe it. There was just something about the Hardys not having set their timer that bothered him. Even though they were going to rescue Joe, Biff knew that at least one of them would have hit the system's button that started the timer if only from habit.  
  
The two checked the front door. Locked. They went around to the back and, once again, found the kitchen door unsecured. Biff held a finger to his lips and the two friends went inside. They split up to look around and reconvened ten minutes later in the living room.  
  
Biff turned on the overhead light as Chet bent down to pick up a folded sheet of paper lying half under the hutch by the doorway to the dining room. "What's that?" asked Biff inclining his head at the paper in Chet's grasp.  
  
Chet unfolded the paper and frowned. "Looks like the worksheet Frank and Joe make out when they are listing possible leads."  
  
"Now I know something has happened," declared Biff smacking a fist into an open palm. "Neither Frank nor Mr. Hardy would be this careless."  
  
"I think we should call the police," Chet said.  
  
"Agreed," stated Biff before clamping his mouth shut. "Shhh," he hissed.  
  
Coming from the kitchen was the sound of an opening door and footsteps, one set with a distinctive limp. Biff got on the right side of the dining room door and Chet took up position on the left. The dining room door swung open and Chet threw himself at the first intruder as Biff launched himself at the second.  
  
"Oooof!" grunted a familiar voice.   
  
"Joe!" exclaimed Chet as he got his first look at the hapless youth beneath him. 


	15. Chapter 15

"Yeah, it's me," grunted Joe. "Now will you get off of me?"  
  
Chet rolled off and offered Joe a hand up as Biff relinquished his hold on Tom. "Biff, this is Tom Leland," Joe introduced the two. "Tom, this is another friend of ours, Biff Hooper."  
  
"That's a good left hook you've got there," Tom congratulated Biff as he rubbed his jaw gingerly.  
  
"Where are Dad and Frank?" asked Joe kicking off Moran's shoes and unwrapping his sore feet.  
  
Chet and Biff exchanged a glace that was lost on Joe because he was examining his blisters.  
  
"What happened to your feet?" cried out Biff falling to his knees beside Joe for a closer look.  
  
Joe gave a brief description of his and Tom's escape. "You never did answer me," he ended. "Where are Dad and Frank?"  
  
Frank groaned and opened his eyes. He tried to move but it was pretty much pointless. His wrists were cuffed behind his back with what felt like a concrete pillar between his arms. His back was against the pillar and he was in a sitting position with his legs at an angle, bound with a thick coil of rope. There was a bandana tied at the back of his head making it slightly uncomfortable to lean it back and get a good look at his prison. The bandana fit snugly in his mouth but his upper teeth did drop down a bit over the top of it.  
  
Dad! thought Frank. He was with me but where is he now? Frank looked around as much as he could. It was possible his father was bound and gagged in a similar position behind the large boiler blocking his view.  
  
"Baaab!" Frank shouted through his gag. He held his breath and waited for a sound that would let him know he wasn't alone but he heard nothing.  
  
He gave up on listening and began kicking as much as he could to try and get his ankles free. After what seemed like forever he managed to get one of his shoes off and five minutes after that he kicked the rest of the rope away from his feet.  
  
Using the pillar behind him as leverage, he eased himself to a standing position and was finally able to see over the boiler. His dad wasn't there. Why had they separated them? And where was Joe? Had they already killed him? Frank gave an involuntary shiver and shoved the thought away. He had to stay focused if he was going to get out of this alive and anger over something that might not even be true was not going to help. His mind clear, he began banging the cuffs against the pillar with slow, hard, movements. He only hoped the metal would give before he did.  
  
Joe awoke early Tuesday morning. It was a rare feat since he normally wasn't a morning person and it had been almost one am before the police had left and he and Tom had eaten a light supper and gone to bed.  
  
Joe entered the bathroom and scowled at his reflection. Everything took so long last night, he thought wearily. After Biff and Chet had told him their suspicions of foul play befalling Frank and Mr. Hardy and had given him the sheet of paper they had found, Joe had agreed something must have happened and called Chief Collig.  
  
While they had waited for the police Chet had gone to the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit from the counter beneath the sink. He helped Joe treat his blistered feet while Biff ran to Joe's room for some slippers.  
  
Joe looked down at his bandaged feet and wiggled his toes as he reached for his toothbrush. Although still sore, they felt much better than they had the previous evening.  
  
After finishing his teeth he removed the bandages and pajamas and climbed in the shower. The water hurt his feet and he stayed in no longer than absolutely necessary to clean up. Getting out, he dressed and put fresh bandages on his feet. He found the most comfortable shoes he owned and slipped them on, wincing only a little as he tied them then went down the hallway to his father's office.  
  
Joe and Tom had searched the house last night and disposed of the listening devices they had found, even getting rid of a weird looking piece of electronic device Tom had found attached to the computer's modem. Obviously, Morrison had access to some high-tech equipment.   
  
Getting down to the matter at hand, Joe laid the sheet of paper on the desk and logged on. In minutes he was finding out what he could about the first person on the list, a man named Leroy Nelson.  
  
"Wake up, Hardy," Grayhaven ordered as he brought a small plastic container of orange juice into the building where Fenton was imprisoned.  
  
Fenton opened his eyes slowly, wondering to whom the voice belonged. As he remembered the events of the previous evening he jerked to a sitting position but immediately closed his eyes and fell back to the hard floor he had been lying on with a crack.  
  
Picard knelt down and checked Fenton's pulse as small droplets of blood eased from the fresh wound where his head had just made contact with the floor. "Why did he have to be knocked out too?" he complained. "It would have been just as easy to tie him up last night."  
  
"Because Hardy ignored the gun in his face and started to put up a fight. Moran let him have it after Hardy threw the first punch," Foster answered.   
  
"Yeah, well, if he doesn't come around soon Morrison is going to have your hide. Moran's too," Picard said as he, Foster and Grayhaven left the warehouse.  
  
"Relax," Grayhaven said calmly, tossing the full container of juice in a trashcan outside the door. "Hardy will wake up and then he will do what we want or watch Frankie boy die by degrees." 


	16. Chapter 16

Joe shut off the computer and ran downstairs. H had been online for almost two hours and now had enough information to begin the quest for his family. He figured they had to be captive at the home of one of the names on the list or at the very least one of the people listed could lead him to where they were being held.  
  
Joe entered the kitchen with his nose in the air. The smell of bacon and coffee mingled to tease his senses. "Tom?" he asked in surprise seeing the man standing at the stove.  
  
Tom turned his head and smiled at Joe. "You were busy so I didn't want to disturb you," he said. "But I figured you would need some nourishment and I do make some mean scrambled eggs. That is okay?" he asked, his voice faltering when Joe's expression never changed.  
  
"Sure," said Joe with a grin. "Listen, do you mind if I pick your brain?" he asked, the smile vanishing almost as quickly as it had appeared.  
  
"Of course not," Tom answered. "Anything I can do to help," he added. "I mean, if it weren't for me your dad and brother wouldn't be in this mess."  
  
"Not quite," Joe disagreed honestly. "They're in this mess because I got involved."  
  
"Sit down," Tom instructed. "You can ask me what you want while we eat."  
  
Joe sat down as Tom took up breakfast. A couple of minutes later they were both digging in. "This is good," Joe complimented him. "Thanks."  
  
"My pleasure," Tom said.  
  
"What can you tell me about Leroy Nelson?" asked Joe.  
  
"He runs numbers in the city," answered Tom. "Strictly small fry on that front," he continued. "But he's started dipping into other stuff."  
  
"Like?" queried Joe.  
  
"Word has it that he has been talking to Curtis McFadden," Tom said, his voice dropping a bit as if he were afraid he might be overheard.  
  
"McFadden?" repeated Joe remembering the name from lower down on the list and biting his lower lip thoughtfully. "What does he have to do with Morrison?" he asked finally. Joe wanted all these scumbags put away but his number one priority was finding his family.  
  
"McFadden works for Morrison," Tom replied. "He gives Morrison twenty percent of his take. Occasionally, Morrison would forgo half in exchange for a favor."  
  
"Like keeping watch over a prisoner?" Joe guessed. Tom nodded. "Looks like McFadden is in for a little scrutiny," said Joe.  
  
"When do we leave?" asked Tom.  
  
"We don't," Joe replied. "You are still in danger," he explained. "I want you to stay here with the alarm on. I'll have some of my friends come over and help keep an eye out. Do you know where McFadden lives?"  
  
"No," Tom answered. "But I've seen him in Billy Bob's Bar on the south end of town a few times."  
  
"I'll get on it," Joe said. "Do you mind doing the dishes?"  
  
"Not at all," Tom assured him.  
  
With a smile Joe stood up and left the kitchen. He raced back upstairs and ran a search on McFadden. When he had finished, he checked his watch. Too early for lunch so he couldn't call the phone in the school cafeteria. Blast it! He hated to waste any more time. If only Sam weren't in the hospital, he thought picking up the phone. He had been relieved to find out last night that Sam hadn't been killed but he was still worried about him. So it was with a guilty conscious that Joe dialed the hospital to see how he was doing. He should have done so last night, he knew, but although the thought had crossed his mind he had forgotten.  
  
"Ethel?" Joe spoke Sam's wife's name as he was connected to Sam's room. "How is he?"  
  
"Much better," Ethel answered in a relieved voice. "He came out of his coma about four this morning."  
  
"That's wonderful!" Joe enthused, his face breaking into a huge smile.  
  
"I'm glad you're home," Ethel said. "I know your father was extremely worried about you."  
  
"Yeah," Joe replied, his voice growing frustrated.  
  
"Is something wrong?" inquired Ethel picking up on the subtle nuance.  
  
"Dad and Frank are missing," answered Joe.  
  
"Oh no!" gasped Ethel.  
  
"I have a few leads I am following up on," Joe continued. "So you and Sam don't have to worry. I just wanted to see how Sam was doing."  
  
"Joe, these men are dangerous," Ethel stated in a firm voice. "I don't want you going after them by yourself."  
  
"I won't," promised Joe. "I'll have Biff go with me."  
  
"Joe, maybe you should let the police take care of this," suggested Ethel, still worried because she had always looked on Joe and Frank as the children she and Sam would never have.  
  
"Easy, Ethel," Joe said in the gentle tone he used with his aunt on occasion. "I will be careful and I promise to call you tomorrow afternoon and keep you posted."  
  
"Okay," Ethel accepted Joe's terms. "But if I don't hear from you by seven I am going to send Chief Collig after you."  
  
"Deal," agreed Joe. "Take care and tell Sam I said to get better."  
  
"I will. Thanks for calling," she added before hanging up.  
  
Joe set the handset down and jumped as the phone rang as soon as he had released it. "Hello?" he answered.  
  
"Joe? Any word yet?" Chet's voice came through.  
  
"No, but I do have some leads," answered Joe. "But I need your help and the rest of the guys."  
  
"How soon?" asked Chet.  
  
"As soon as possible," was Joe's reply.  
  
"I'll tell the others," promised Chet. "We'll be there as soon as we can slip away."  
  
"Thanks," Joe said but Chet had already hung up.  
  
Joe returned downstairs and found Tom in the living room looking at a magazine. "My friends will be here soon," Joe informed him.  
  
"You're actually going after McFadden?" asked Tom, setting the magazine back on the coffee table.  
  
"Have too," replied Joe with a shrug.  
  
"Shouldn't you let the police handle it?" Tom asked and then, upon seeing Joe's scowl, added, "I know you and Frank are detectives and all but, well, you're still just a kid."  
  
"I may be a kid, as you put it," Joe informed him in a matter of fact tone, "but Frank and I have solved more than a few mysteries. Some that even the FBI couldn't solve."  
  
"Really?" Tom demanded, giving Joe a look that bordered on respect.  
  
"Really," affirmed Joe with a curt nod. "I'm not trying to brag but I would put my skills over those of the police any day."  
  
"How did you get so good?" asked Tom curiously.  
  
"My dad trained me," Joe answered with a proud smile.  
  
Joe spent the time waiting for his friends to arrive going over the list he had with Tom. Joe was amazed that most of the people who seemed to have the closest connections with Morrison were at the bottom of the list.  
  
"Hmm," Joe said after Tom had told Joe about the last name on the list. "If Meecham is involved with McFadden then maybe I should see what I can find out about him before I leave." Joe excused himself and left Tom downstairs to return, once again, to his father's office. He logged on to the net and sat with his fingers ready at the keyboard. "One e or two?" Joe wondered out loud.  
  
Shaking his head because he couldn't remember he pulled out the sheet of paper and laid it beside the keyboard. The edge slid beneath it causing part of the paper Frank had put there earlier to slide out the other side. Joe lifted the keyboard and picked up the paper that was obviously a photocopy. It was a copy of the list he had been using except the last five names on the list were different!  
  
Why are the last names different? he wondered as he gazed at the sheet. He picked up the one he had been using and looked at it closely. The first few names were in his dad's handwriting but the others that he had assumed were in Frank's handwriting proved not to be. There were subtle differences that he could see after looking at it closely. He sat back stunned. The work list he had been using had been altered.   
  
Joe's face hardened as he realized why all of the best connections to Morrison were at the bottom. Tom was still working for Morrison and for some reason Morrison wanted these men out of his way. But why not change the real connections Dad had listed too? he wondered.  
  
"Of course," Joe murmured then clamped his lips shut as he thought about the implications of his discovery. They are going to let Dad escape! Tom helped me escape so Dad would trust him! 


	17. Chapter 17

Fenton groaned as he opened his eyes and was accosted by the light entering the warehouse from the skylight above. He rolled over onto his back and moaned as he forced his eyes to remain open and focus. After getting used to the light, he rolled onto his side, ignoring the pounding in his head, and lifted his knees up and managed to rise to a kneeling position.  
  
He took his bearings then lay back down and rolled in an easterly direction until he reached a long worktable. Getting back to his knees he heaved himself up until he could reach a small knife lying on the table. Falling back to the ground he used the knife to cut at his ropes. It took several minutes for the dull blade to hack through the ropes but finally his hands were free and he set about untying his feet.   
  
Fenton got unsteadily to his feet and staggered over to the door. Locked. "Blast it!" he cursed in a guttural voice. He went back to where he had dropped the knife and plucked it from the floor. Five minutes later, the door popped open and Fenton exited the building into the late morning sun.  
  
He recognized the area. It would have been hard to forget because it was here that he and Frank had captured a classmate of Joe's who had killed seven students and had kidnapped Joe. It was here that Fenton had felt his world crash down around him when he had believed his son, like the other students, was already dead. Fearing this was an omen, he swallowed and began the trek toward the nearest phone.  
  
Frank grunted and gave one harder smash against the pillar. He heard a snap and his arms fell to his side as one of the cuffs broke from the repeated abuse Frank had put it through. Frank pulled his freed wrist up and rubbed it, wincing at the contact. He pulled at the other cuff but it was holding fast. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a handful of change. Grinning, he chose a dime and used it to remove the screw from other cuff. I'm so lucky Joe taught me that, he thought. Still wish I knew where HE had learned it, though.   
  
Frank made his way up the basement steps and listened at the door. Hearing no movement, he opened the door and entered the hallway. Unsure which direction he should take, he turned to the left and began walking, stopping when he heard voices coming from a room down the hall.   
  
"This is ridiculous!" Moran snarled. "Picard just called and Hardy escaped. The blond got away as planned and Tom has him doing what we want. There is no reason to keep pretending."  
  
"We will continue as we were," Morrison stated firmly. "A great actor stays in character even when the camera is focused on someone else. If we fall out of character then something may slip."  
  
"You and your acting lessons," grumbled Moran. "I'm sick of pretending."  
  
"Acting," Morrison corrected him.  
  
"Pretending," Moran continued, glaring at his boss. "That we had to pretend Joe was Tom's kid while we were alone was crazy but now....everything is going as planned. Our real prisoner is safely tucked away in the basement and there is no one...no one, " he repeated, "to interfere."  
  
That's what you think! thought Frank angrily although his face was covered in a big smile. Joe was free! His smile faltered. Tom is using Joe! Frank backed away from the door. I've got to get home, he thought.  
  
"Going somewhere?" asked a wheezy voice from behind him.  
  
Frank spun around in surprise, his mouth falling open. Wheezy grabbed Frank's upper arm in a strong grip before he could react but that didn't stop Frank from fighting back once he registered what was happening.   
  
Frank lifted his other arm and delivered an uppercut to the man's left chin. Stunned but not out, Wheezy retained his hold on Frank's arm and shoved him up against the wall.   
  
Moran and Morrison came hurrying out of the room. As Wheezy backhanded Frank and released his arm, Morrison looked at Moran. "You were saying?" he asked in a calm tone.  
  
Moran scowled and took hold of the arm Wheezy had just relinquished. "Come on," he growled, dragging Frank along the hall.   
  
Frank, however, was not going without a fight. He swung at Moran and connected with the man's stomach. Moran dropped Frank's arm and bent over, gasping for breath as Wheezy launched himself at Frank. Frank fell backwards with Wheezy grasping his neck. As Frank fought to breathe he brought both hands up and smashed them as hard as he could against Wheezy's ears. Wheezy released him and grabbed his head, falling off Frank as he was shoved away. Frank got to his feet but before he had taken two steps he was taken down again, this time by Moran. Frank kicked out and Moran relinquished the hold he had on Frank's foot. With a yelp, Frank pitched through the open basement door and down the steps. He lay at the foot, not moving. 


	18. Chapter 18

Joe picked up the handset of the phone and opened it up. At once he spotted a piece of equipment that did not belong. Tom had snuck back up after they had gone to bed last night and re-bugged the house! His mouth set in a grim line; Joe checked the back of the computer. Sure enough, there was another device like the one Tom had removed the night before.   
  
He wanted to yank them off and shove them down Tom's throat but until he had his father and Frank back he knew he had to play along. Doing his best to control his anger, he sat back down and typed in Meecham's name. If they wanted him to find McFadden, Meecham and the others: he would. But, he vowed silently, I won't be handling him the way they expect.  
  
A few minutes later, Joe logged off and went to the file cabinet. He unlocked it and then began searching for a file on Morrison. Finding one, he pulled it out and scanned the material. Nothing he hadn't already seen online except for the notations in the sidelines his dad had made. Joe read about the notes on Leroy Nelson. Of course! Tom is trying to draw me away from Morrison's real contacts, he thought as realization hit. That's why only Frank's writing was changed. He expects dad to escape and come back. Morrison rigged this so we would trust Tom and take out Morrison's competition while believing we were working toward finding Frank. Oh yeah, Joe thought with relish. You have a BIG surprise coming!  
  
Joe heard a car pull up out front and quickly put the file back in the cabinet and locked it back. He hurried down the stairs and to the front door, stopping Tom as he was about to open it. "Someone might be watching the house," Joe said. "You had better stay inside."  
  
Tom nodded his agreement and returned to the living room as Joe opened the door and went outside to greet his friends before they could reach the porch.  
  
"What have you got?" Biff asked as Joe approached.   
  
"Plenty," Joe said. "To start with, Tom is still working for Morrison," he dropped the bombshell.  
  
"What?" erupted Chet.  
  
"Shh!" Joe urged him. "We can't let on that we know. Not until we get Frank back."  
  
"What about your dad?" Phil inquired.  
  
"I think they are going to let him escape," Joe answered then quickly brought the other boys up to speed on everything he had found out so far.  
  
"That slimy rat," growled Chet. "I bet he never even signed on to teach the survival class until he found out you and Frank were taking it."  
  
"You're probably right," agreed Joe. "I'm going to call Agent Boone and see if he will meet with me later," he continued. "But right now, I have something else I want to try." He looked at Biff. "It's kind of dangerous but I would appreciate your going with me and waiting in the car?"  
  
"I won't stay in the car," Biff said. "I'm going with you all the way."  
  
Joe shook his head. "No. If something goes wrong, I'll need you to go for the police."  
  
"Fine," Biff agreed with a low growl.  
  
"I need the rest of you to keep an eye on Tom. Pretend you're protecting him," he explained. "And if Dad comes home, which I believe he will, tell him about Tom before he gets a chance to talk to him."  
  
"Will do," Phil promised.   
  
"Let's go," Joe said to Biff and led the way to the van.  
  
Biff frowned as Joe came to a stop in front of a bar in the seediest part of town. "You can't go in there," he argued, putting a hand on Joe's shoulder. "You aren't even old enough."  
  
"Relax," Joe said, patting Biff's hand reassuringly. "I know what I'm doing." I hope! Joe climbed out of the van and headed toward the entrance.  
  
"ID?" asked a large, muscle-bound man with short black hair and green eyes as Joe opened the door of the bar and stepped inside.   
  
"I'm only looking for someone," Joe said. He couldn't have shown his driver's license to the man if he had wanted too. It was still in the house he had been imprisoned in.  
  
"How original," sneered the bouncer. "Not! Now get out before I throw you out."  
  
"I need to see Steve McFadden," Joe said as the bouncer stood to make good his threat.  
  
"You're kidding, right?" the man laughed.  
  
"No," Joe stated firmly, looking him in the eyes. "I need to see him. It's urgent."  
  
"Wait here," Joe was ordered. "And if you take one step from this spot I will tear you limb from limb when I get back."  
  
Joe watched while the large man moved to the back of the bar and disappeared through a door. As Joe waited for his return, he looked at the seedy dump that was referred to as a bar. The curtains were dark and moth-eaten and the entire place smelled like his mom's tofu surprise after it had been in the refrigerator for a week.   
  
The joint's clientele was an odd assortment to be sure. Men who looked like they hadn't bathed in months were sitting at the same tables as men who wore three piece suits and were clean shaven and they were both nursing beers and, Joe assumed, talking at one point. Although right now, all eyes seemed to be on him and conversation in the bar was absent.  
  
The bouncer returned with malicious grin lighting up his features. "Come with me," he told Joe.   
  
Joe followed the man into the room at the back of the bar and stood silently as he left and shut the door behind him. He swallowed nervously when he saw his picture from Saturday's paper hanging over the dartboard with a multitude of tiny holes covering it.  
  
"And to what do I owe this pleasure?" asked a man with short brown hair and green eyes as he leaned back in his chair and looked lazily at Joe.  
  
"You control a lot of crime in this area," Joe began. "You have only one real enemy; Cash Morrison."  
  
"You can't prove anything," McFadden said with a small snicker.   
  
"I know all about the hold up at Feldman's and the local burglaries you and your men have been pulling," Joe continued, his stomach tightening as McFadden's eyes hardened and the movement from the corners of the room ceased.   
  
"You do?" McFadden asked softly, his eyes glinting like steel. "And yet you came here? Alone? Did the article inflate your ego, Mr. Hardy?" he asked. "Do you expect that you are invincible, perhaps?"  
  
Joe swallowed again as two men came up on either side of him and grasped his arms. They pulled Joe's arms up and back causing him to wince in pain. "You do realize, knowing what you do, that you won't be allowed to live?" 


	19. Chapter 19

"Aren't you interested in finding out how I know about your activities?" Joe asked, trying to keep calm in spite of the circumstances.  
  
"And you want to tell me?" McFadden queried, his face reflecting a hint of surprise.  
  
"I'm not interested in you," Joe answered. "I don't care about your crime against Feldman, who, in my opinion only got what he deserved in the first place," he added, knowing Feldman was a fence for stolen goods. "And as for the burglaries, as far as I am concerned, they are unimportant. You only robbed stores and they are insured."  
  
"A Hardy doesn't care about crime," McFadden demanded, quirking an eyebrow in disbelief. "Why, young Mr. Hardy, if you don't care, then why are you here?"  
  
"Someone told me about your crimes," Joe said. "Someone who wants you out of business."  
  
"Go on," McFadden said, nodding at the two men who were holding Joe.  
  
Released, Joe took a step closer to the desk McFadden sat behind. "This someone has my brother and I want him back."  
  
"So you are willing to make a deal with me, is that it?" McFadden inquired. "I help you get your brother back and you don't say a word?"  
  
"Kind of," Joe admitted to the guffaws of the men present. "You see, this person sent one of his men to the FBI pretending to be a turncoat. But when we started looking into the crimes of his boss, he kept turning the investigation toward other people whose absence would benefit his so-called former employer."  
  
"Who?" McFadden demanded.  
  
Joe shook his head. "I want my brother," he said. "You get the name and I go with you. I get Frank and we leave."  
  
"Forget it, kid," McFadden answered. "You won't even leave here if I don't get that name."  
  
"What?" Joe asked his bravado vanishing.  
  
"Tell me who and I let you leave," McFadden stated. "If you don't, well, you won't have to worry about seeing your brother or anyone else ever again."  
  
"Uh..uh..." Joe swallowed, loudly. "Can't we..." he began but McFadden cut him off.  
  
"Now," he ordered.  
  
"Cash Morrison," Joe answered. "It was one of his men who led me to you."  
  
Joe exited the bar a couple of minutes later and climbed into the van. "Well?" demanded Biff. "How did it go?"  
  
"Like clockwork," answered Joe with a smile as he started the van.  
  
It was a little after one p.m. when a police car pulled to a stop in front of the Hardy residence. "I'll go," Phil said, dropping the curtain and racing to the door.  
  
"You had better go upstairs and wait," Chet told Tom. "We still don't know which of the good guys are really on Morrison's payroll."  
  
"Good idea," Tom agreed, smiling. Suckers!   
  
"Mr. Hardy!" Phil greeted him as he exited the passenger side of the police car.  
  
"Phil?" Fenton asked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Joe asked us to baby-sit Tom," Phil explained. He waited until the cruiser's driver got out and came around before relating the information Joe had asked him too, positive Mr. Hardy would have been told about Joe's safe return by Chief Collig.  
  
"Where has Joe gone?" Chief Collig demanded before Fenton had the chance.  
  
"I don't know," Phil admitted. "But he took Biff with him," he quickly added so Mr. Hardy wouldn't be quite so worried. It didn't work.  
  
"If he has gone after McFadden then he could be in real trouble," Fenton said, rubbing the back of his neck wearily.  
  
Phil's cell phone jingled and he pulled it out. "Hello?"  
  
"Phil. Can you talk?" asked Joe.  
  
"Yeah," Phil said, smiling at Mr. Hardy. "Go ahead, Joe."  
  
"Did Dad make it home yet?" Joe inquired.  
  
"He just got here," Phil admitted. "Want to talk to him?"  
  
"Please."  
  
"Son! Are you all right? Where are you?" Fenton demanded once Phil had relinquished his cell.  
  
"I'm fine and Biff and I are following McFadden," Joe said. "I think he's taking us to Morrison's. We're on I96 now but I get the feeling we are going to be pulling off before too much longer. Keep Phil's cell and I'll let you know when we get there."  
  
"Will do," agreed Fenton. "Make sure you stay far enough back so you won't be seen."  
  
"Don't worry," Joe said. "That would ruin everything."  
  
"What do you mean?" Fenton asked warily.  
  
"Can you get Tom to want to head back to Morrison's?" asked Joe. "He needs to be with Morrison for the grand finale or we won't really have anything on him."  
  
"What do you have in mind?"  
  
"I only have a general idea," Joe said. "But it's getting more cohesive."  
  
"Joe, come home," Fenton instructed.  
  
"No can do, Dad," Joe said. "I'm not coming home without Frank."  
  
"You don't know what you're doing," Fenton said. "You'll get yourself, Biff and your brother killed."  
  
"No, I won't," Joe denied. "Just get Tom to go to Morrison. There's going to be a big showdown between Morrison and McFadden and Tom needs to be there to fan the flames."  
  
"How?" Fenton demanded.   
  
"Just trust me," Joe begged. He had been lying when he told his father he only had a general idea but if he had told him the truth, there would be no way he could carry it out. His plan involved putting himself directly in the line of fire and his dad would never have allowed that. 


	20. Chapter 20

Fenton gave a low growl of frustration as Joe hung up. He trusted his son but he knew how dangerous the men they were dealing with were. He did want Frank back but not at the cost of another son.  
  
"Fenton?" Chief Collig asked a bit hesitantly as Fenton closed Phil's cell phone and stared at it with his bottom lip tucked between his lips.  
  
"How soon can you have an unmarked car here?" inquired Fenton looking into Collig's eyes.  
  
"Five minutes," Collig stated. "Why?"  
  
"Joe has a plan," Fenton said with a twinge of worry mingled into his voice. He informed Collig of Joe's request.  
  
"I'll have one on each street in five minutes," Collig promised as he left the two and climbed back into his squad car.  
  
"Do you mind if I hang onto your cell for a little while?" Fenton asked Phil.  
  
"Of course not, Sir," replied Phil. "Um, Mr. Hardy?" he asked hesitantly. "How are you going to get Tom to go to Morrison?"  
  
"By telling him a slightly altered version of the truth," Fenton answered. He led the way inside, coming to a stop as Chet and Tony stepped into the foyer to greet them.   
  
"Are you all right?" asked Chet looking at the gash on Mr. Hardy's forehead.  
  
"I'm fine," Fenton assured the boys with a brief smile.  
  
"I'm glad to hear that," said Tom coming down the steps. "Joe was worried half to death about you."  
  
"I know," replied Fenton. "He just called." Fenton held up Phil's cell phone. "He was glad I had escaped but Morrison still has Frank and that didn't make Joe happy."  
  
"Well, duh," put in Chet.  
  
"No, you see Joe overheard McFadden say he was going to Morrison's to take care of some business," Fenton fibbed. "Joe was following them but lost sight of their car. You know how Joe gets when he is frustrated."  
  
"McFadden was going to see Morrison?" asked Tom unsure he had heard correctly. Why would he do that wondered Tom? Unless he had somehow figured out Morrison had sicced the Hardys on him!  
  
Tom let out a big yawn and stretched his arms. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I didn't get much rest last night."  
  
"No wonder," Phil put in pseudo-sympathetically.  
  
"There isn't anything you can do now," said Fenton. "The police searched Morrison's old hangout and he is long gone so you might as well get some shuteye."  
  
"I think I will," Tom acquiesced at once. "Wake me if you need me," he added heading back up the stairs.  
  
"Chet, why don't you use the phone in my office to see if it's all right with your parents to stay here for awhile longer," Fenton suggested before Tom was out of earshot. He didn't want the man using the phone to warn Morrison. He had to actually go in person. "Tony, you can use the phone down here."  
  
"Sure thing, Mr. Hardy," Tony agreed as Chet followed Tom up the stairs.  
  
Fenton ran to the kitchen and watched out the window. He was sure Joe had given Tom the upstairs guestroom to stay in. A couple of minutes later, Tom's legs were coming into view as he jumped from the window to the tree and navigated his way down. Phil had followed Fenton into the kitchen and Tony popped in a minute later to see what was going on. Fenton turned to the two boys. "Tony, do you have your cell on you?"  
  
"Yes, Sir," answered Tony.  
  
"Good. I want you two to take the boys' bikes and follow Tom. Don't try to stop him. He will probably steal a car somewhere along the way," he warned them. "When he reaches his destination call and give me the location. Chet, the police and I will be on our way."  
  
"Yes, Sir," Phil and Tony agreed. They waited until Tom had landed in the yard and took off down the street before hurrying to the garage. There, they donned helmets and started the bikes, glad their friends left the keys in them when they were parked in the garage.  
  
About ten minutes after Joe had ended his call with his father, McFadden's car pulled off the main highway. Less than fifteen minutes later, Joe pulled the van to a stop behind some overgrown bushes.  
  
"Time to call your dad," Biff said.  
  
"Not yet," disagreed Joe. "First we have to make sure Frank is in there."  
  
"Let's go then," said Biff.  
  
"No," Joe halted him. "Just me. If I get caught you need to call Dad and the police. Give me twenty minutes."  
  
"I don't like this," Biff said with a scowl.  
  
"Me either," admitted Joe. "But if Frank isn't there then getting the police would be a big mistake."  
  
Joe left the van and crept up to the house. He could hear the men arguing in the living room as he entered through the back door. He checked upstairs hoping they were keeping Frank at least semi-comfortable as they had him but it was deserted. He returned downstairs and looked around the main floor, avoiding the accusations and threats coming from one room and headed toward the back of the house. Only four doors down from the commotion, he saw one door closed and bolted.  
  
Quietly sliding the lock back, he opened the door and descended the steps with his penlight to guide him. "Frank!" he gasped seeing his brother tied to a pillar in the middle of the basement.  
  
Joe hurried over and pulled the gag from his mouth. "Are you okay?" he asked Frank anxiously , his eyes taking in the bruises Frank had sustained during his attempted escape.  
  
"Yes, except I hurt my ankle," said Frank. "I can't walk."  
  
"You can lean on me," said Joe. "But be quiet."  
  
"Where's Dad?" asked Frank. "And the police?"  
  
"At home waiting for me to call and tell him I found you," Joe whispered. "He'll bring the cops with him."  
  
"You're here alone?" Frank hissed angrily. Why did Joe put himself in these situations?  
  
"Biff's outside," Joe told him. "Come on," he added trying to get Frank to a standing position.  
  
"No," Frank said his face set stubbornly. "Get out of here before you get caught. I will be fine until the police arrive."  
  
Joe took one look at Frank's determined face then turned and left the basement. Frank, pleased Joe had done as ordered for once, was never the less stunned that Joe had left him!  
  
Joe made his way out of the house and back tot he van. "He wasn't there?" Biff asked as Joe reached for the cell phone.  
  
"He's there," replied Joe. "And stubborn as ever." Joe hit the speed dial for Phil's cell and told his dad where they were. When he hung up he looked at Biff. "Frank hurt his ankle," he said. "I need you to get him out of the basement and back to the van."  
  
"What are you going to be doing?" asked Biff although he was positive he wasn't going to like the answer.  
  
"I'm going to create a diversion," Joe said.  
  
"No," Biff declared with authority. "Trading you for Frank isn't the way to do this."  
  
"Relax, buddy," Joe said. "I'll just keep watch unless they try to leave. Even if I do get caught I stand a better chance to get out of this than Frank. He can't even stand up on his own."  
  
The two went inside. Joe pointed out the basement door to Biff then went into one of the rooms next to the living room where the men were gathered.  
  
"Biff?" Frank gasped in surprise as Biff stepped up to the basement door.  
  
"How did you get up the steps?" Biff demanded looking at Frank. "Joe said you were hurt."  
  
"Just my ankle," answered Frank. "I can hobble, and crawl," he added looking down at the steps he had just crawled up. "Where's Joe?"  
  
"He's going to make sure they are kept occupied while I get you out of here," Biff informed him.  
  
"Why can't he do as he's told?" complained Frank in a low voice as Biff put a supporting arm under his arm.  
  
"You know Joe would never leave you," Biff said.  
  
"I know, but still..."  
  
Joe looked through the open door and saw Biff walking down the hallway with his brother leaning heavily on him.  
  
"It better have been a ploy of Hardy's," Joe heard McFadden say.  
  
Oh no! Joe thought. They're getting ready to leave! He looked around the room. Next to the window was a large expensive looking vase. He opened the window then knocked the vase to the floor where it crashed into a hundred or more pieces.  
  
Immediately the connecting door burst open and Morrison, McFadden, Foster, Moran, Picard and three other men rushed into the room, all with their weapons drawn.  
  
Joe stood there looking like he had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar minutes before dinner. He looked at the men with a sheepish grin and said, "Oops." 


	21. Chapter 21

Frank jerked away from Biff when he heard Morrison's voice say, "You're dead, kid." But Biff pulled him back and clamped a hand over his mouth and hustled him down the long narrow hallway and out the front door.  
  
Biff released his grip on Frank and removed his hand from Frank's mouth only as they approached the van. "He's in trouble," Frank snarled angrily, and moved to go back but pitched forward and fell to the ground instead when his ankle would not support him.  
  
Biff knelt to help Frank back up but the sound of a car approaching kept them both down and out of view. "That's Tom," Biff whispered as the car passed by them and stopped at the base of the steps.  
  
"Let's get you in the van," Biff said after they had watched Tom exit the car and race up the steps and inside. "Your dad won't be far behind."  
  
As Biff spoke two motorcycles pulled off the road to a stop directly behind the van. The two riders dismounted and removed their helmets.  
  
"Mr. Hardy?" Biff asked.  
  
"Just getting ready to call him," Tony said.  
  
"Joe already did," Biff said. "But I was hoping he was following Tom."  
  
"He sent us," Phil said. "Why?"  
  
"They've got Joe," Frank answered from the passenger side of the van.  
  
"He's hurt his ankle pretty badly," Biff said, looking at Frank. "But he's right, Joe is in trouble. I hope Mr. Hardy and the police hurry."  
  
"Joe may not have that much time," Frank complained, his face worried.  
  
"We'll take care of Joe," Phil promised his friend. "You stay here and wait for the police."  
  
Not having much of a choice, Frank watched his friends head up to the house.  
  
"You're dead, kid," Morrison told Joe.  
  
"I'm sorry," Joe said, holding his hands up. "I didn't mean to break it," he lied.  
  
"How did you get here?" McFadden demanded, glaring at Joe. "Did you follow me?" he asked as his eyes narrowed on Joe.  
  
"No," Joe denied. "Tom brought me here. Well, kind of," he amended.  
  
"He what?" Morrison hissed angrily. "That's preposterous. He doesn't know where I moved my new headquarters to after he took off."  
  
"He must," Joe replied. "I followed him here. Maybe he's hiding because he saw McFadden was here."  
  
"So this Tom person does work for you?" McFadden demanded, ignoring Joe and turning on Morrison. "You told me Hardy was lying. You said it was a trick to get me to admit to robbing the museum last week."  
  
"And you just did," Morrison informed him haughtily. "Would you listen to yourself? You're buying into this kid's lies."  
  
"I wouldn't say that," came a voice from the doorway. Joe saw Phil's head pop up in the window for a brief second before moving out of sight as he spun around to face the opposite door. There stood Tom sandwiched between two of McFadden's men, both of whom had their weapons trained on him.  
  
"We thought we would check the place out just in case the kid was telling the truth," said the man on Tom's right. "And lo and behold, he was."  
  
"Sorry boss," Tom said with a shrug.  
  
"You fool!" snapped Morrison. "Why did you come here?"  
  
"Hardy said Joe called and was upset because he lost McFadden after overhearing him say he was going to see you to take care of business," Tom explained.  
  
"You set us all up," McFadden snarled, turning to glare at Joe.  
  
Joe shrugged. "Whatever it takes," he said. "I told you the truth but you refused to cooperate."  
  
"Kill him," ordered Morrison.  
  
"No!" McFadden countermanded the order.  
  
"You're on my turf," Morrison reminded him. "I'm in charge here."  
  
"Not anymore," McFadden snapped and, without even aiming, raised his gun and fired the full round moving his arm as he did so to eliminate as many of Morison's men as well. When he had finished four lay dead beside Morrison.  
  
"I guess the cavalry is on its way?" McFadden asked of Joe but didn't wait for an answer. "Kill him," he ordered, nodding in Tom's direction. "And bring the kid. We'll detonate the bomb once we're underway."  
  
Joe was grabbed and dragged out of the room. He winced when he heard another gunshot and knew Tom was dead. "Morrison's men are bound to have heard the gunshots," Joe said.  
  
McFadden laughed. "I've got most of his men on my payroll," he said. "The ones who aren't are dead by now."  
  
"So you knew what he was up to all along?" Joe asked as he and his captors followed McFadden outside.  
  
"No," McFadden replied. "He only let a select few know. But it doesn't matter. He's dead and no longer a problem."  
  
"Then you can let me go," Joe said.  
  
"I think not," he said. "Your father and the police should be here anytime. You are our ticket out of here."  
  
Joe looked around anxious to see one of his friends. "They aren't there," one of the men told Joe. "We caught your three buddies and tied them up in the kitchen. When the building goes; so do they."  
  
Frank kept watch on the house from the van. Not long after Phil, Biff, and Tony rounded the corner of the house four men exited the front door and split up. Two going each way. With no way to warn his friends, Frank watched as they were led back to the front of the building at gunpoint and forced inside. Almost immediately he felt his heart leap out of his throat as the air was filled with gunshots.  
  
Frank snatched up the phone and dialed Phil's cell phone. "Dad, how far away are you?" Frank demanded when his father answered.  
  
"We should be there in about eight minutes," Fenton replied. "Just sit tight."  
  
"They've got Joe and the guys," Frank said, his voice breaking. "I heard gunshots."  
  
"Stay put!" ordered Fenton, terror pushing down on his foot as he sped up.  
  
Frank hung up and hopped over to the driver's side of the car. Why couldn't we have an automatic? he groaned silently as he climbed behind the wheel. He couldn't fight, but if they tried to leave he would stop them.  
  
He waited with one hand on the ignition and the other on the steering wheel. Was Joe still alive? His friends? The front door opened and out came a man who had the air of a leader followed by two other men with Joe between them.  
  
Yes! Yes! Frank's brain screamed. But where were they taking him, he wondered as they led Joe to a car? He saw the man say something and saw his brother's pale face, a look of fear marring his features. As Joe began struggling, Frank started the van and put it into gear. Ignoring the searing pain in his ankle, Frank headed for the small group.  
  
Joe stopped struggling as the van approached. He saw McFadden quickly reload his gun and aim it at the van. "No!" Joe shouted, lifting both his feet and kicking out. The captor's grips on his arms kept him but McFadden flew back to the pavement; his bullet sailing harmlessly into the brick wall several feet away.  
  
As the van came to a stop only inches from where McFadden lay, four police cars came speeding up the drive followed by Mr. Hardy's car.  
  
"Freeze!" Collig shouted, jumping out of the first car, his weapon drawn and at the ready. "Let the boy go."  
  
"Not a chance," McFadden declared, his left hand holding a small black box. "He comes with us."  
  
"You're not going anywhere," Collig asserted as his men surrounded them.  
  
"Want to bet?" McFadden said and pushed a button on the box he held.  
  
A deafening boom filled the air and the house exploded into flames!  
  
"No!" screamed Joe as he began squirming to try and free himself once again.  
  
McFadden leapt to his feet only to be knocked over as Frank applied enough gas to bump into him. Before he could arise a second time, Joe had broken free and the men were being restrained by the police.  
  
"Phil, Tony and Biff were in there," Joe said, his voice ragged and his eyes suspiciously bright.  
  
"No, they weren't," Frank said, opening the door and hobbling over to his brother. "Look," he instructed, leaning heavily on one of Joe's shoulders and pointing to the area behind the police.  
  
Joe hugged his brother, his face breaking into a huge grin as his friends neared. "I thought you guys were goners!" he exclaimed when the three boys reached the brothers.  
  
"We got out just in time," Phil said.  
  
"Yeah," agreed Tony. "No sooner had we touched the grass then the place went up."  
  
"Joseph Paul Hardy," Fenton's unmistakable voice came from behind him.  
  
Joe turned around slowly. Whenever his dad used his full name in that tone he knew he was in trouble. "Frank's okay," Joe said, trying to get his dad's mind off of him. "But he hurt his ankle."  
  
"Let me help you to the van," offered Chet coming out from behind Mr. Hardy and taking Frank's arm and wrapping it around his shoulders. After having ridden with Mr. Hardy for the past twenty minutes he had a fair idea of what Joe was in for and he did not want to be within screaming distance.  
  
"Uh...Dad," Frank interrupted his father before he could continue. "Morrison rigged the whole thing. He let Joe and Tom escape and..."  
  
"I know," Fenton said looking at his eldest son. "Go sit down. We'll get your ankle looked at in a bit." Frank bit his bottom lip, looked at Joe then went to the van with Chet's help.  
  
"Do you have any idea how foolhardy your actions were today?" demanded Fenton giving Joe his full attention. Phil, Tony, and Biff headed for the van to wait with Frank and Chet while Joe received the lecture his father had obviously thought through on the way over.  
  
"They had Frank," Joe defended himself.  
  
"I know," responded Fenton in a tone that caused Joe to swallow nervously. "I also know that your 'general idea' nearly got you, your brother, and your friends killed."  
  
"But....it worked," Joe protested lamely. "The bad guys are caught and we're all fine and..."  
  
"The bad guys are not all caught," Fenton corrected him, his fury evident under his quiet tone. "Half of them are dead."  
  
At this point even the police left the immediate area, taking their prisoners with them. "Hey Kid!" McFadden called out as he was hauled away. "Sounds like you might want to consider switching sides! I'll be out in no time. Look me up!"  
  
Joe cringed as his father's face blushed furiously. "He may be at that," Fenton agreed. "Entrapment is a possibility. You do know what that is, right?"  
  
Joe nodded then hung his head and stared at his feet. "I have tried to get you to think before you act. Tried to teach you that there are consequences for your actions."  
  
"Dad, I'm..." Joe started.  
  
"Silence!" roared Fenton. "I've encouraged the close relationship you have with your brother but I am beginning to realize that as long as you know he is around to bail you out you will continue being just as reckless as you were today."  
  
"Dad.." Joe began again feeling incredibly sick.  
  
"I'm sorry, Joseph," Fenton cut him off. "You leave me no alternative."  
  
"I'm grounded from solving mysteries?" guessed Joe feeling as though his world was falling apart.  
  
"No," Fenton replied giving Joe a brief moment of relief before continuing. "I'm sending you to boarding school." 


	22. Chapter 22

"Joe?" Frank asked curiously when he reached the van a few minutes later. "What did Dad say?"  
  
Joe shook his head and climbed behind the wheel as Fenton came over. "Drive your brother to the hospital," he ordered Joe. "I'll meet you there in a little bit."  
  
"It's just a sprain," insisted Frank, his brown eyes filled with concern at the stiff way Joe was sitting and his neglect in acknowledging his father's order.  
  
"We'll let the doctor make that decision," Fenton returned. "Boys," he added, turning to his sons' friends. "I'll drop you off at the house."  
  
"Thank you," acknowledged Phil as Mr. Hardy moved away. "Want us to wait?" he asked Frank, not following Mr. Hardy.  
  
"Nah," denied Frank with a shake of his head. "But thanks."  
  
"Joe?" Biff asked, going around to stand by his window. "What did your dad say to you?"  
  
Joe, still in shock, just shook his head and gripped the steering wheel. Biff's eyes met Frank's when he turned to look at him. Worried, Frank gave him a wan smile. "We'll call you later," he promised.  
  
"Take care of that ankle," Chet told Frank as he glanced warily at Joe.  
  
Frank nodded as the guys backed away from the van. Joe started the motor and headed for the hospital.   
  
"What did Dad say?" asked Frank when they had almost reached their destination. He had wanted Joe to tell him in his own time but after fifteen minutes of stoic silence he couldn't wait any longer.  
  
"Boarding school," Joe answered, his grip tightening on the wheel.  
  
"Boarding school?" a confused Frank repeated. "What about it?"  
  
"He's sending me to one," Joe growled, batting his eyes to keep from crying as he made the sharp left that led to the hospital's emergency room.  
  
"No way!" denied Frank. "You must have misunderstood."  
  
"I didn't misunderstand," Joe stated firmly as he brought the van to a stop. "He doesn't want me anymore." Before Frank could respond Joe had climbed out of the van and headed inside for a wheel chair.  
  
Frank fumed silently as he sat through the x-rays and had his ankle bandaged. Joe hadn't got near him again since leaving the van and it was driving Frank crazy that he couldn't talk to Joe. He had to make Joe believe their Dad loved him and that he hadn't heard him correctly. There was no way their Dad would send Joe to a boarding school!  
  
Frank heaved a weary sigh as he was finally told he could go home. He looked around anxiously for Joe as he was wheeled into the waiting room. His frown deepened when he saw only his father there. "Where's Joe?" demanded Frank before his father could speak.  
  
"He went home," replied Fenton. He followed the orderly as he rolled Frank outside to the car. "Thank you," Fenton said to the orderly after Frank was helped into the passenger seat.  
  
"Joe said you were sending him to a boarding school," Frank stated without preamble as his father got into the car and reached for his seatbelt.  
  
"That's correct," Fenton affirmed calmly as he clicked his seat belt and started the car.  
  
"Why?" screamed Frank, his brown eyes glaring angrily at his father.  
  
"Because he nearly got himself, you, Tony, Phil and Biff killed," Fenton defended his actions. "And there are several men dead because of what he did."  
  
"He didn't kill anyone," Frank pointed out. "And he was rescuing me."  
  
"We were on our way," Fenton informed him. "If he had waited then Morrison, Leland and the others would be in custody now, not in the morgue."  
  
"He thought he was doing the right thing," agreed Frank. "You know Joe would never hurt anyone."  
  
"Not intentionally, no," agreed Fenton. "But that is your brother's problem. He doesn't consider the consequences of his actions. Frank, Joe has to learn discipline and obviously he isn't getting it from us."  
  
"He thinks you don't want him anymore," Frank said a hushed voice.  
  
"He....?" Fenton swallowed hard. "That's not true," he said. "You know it's not."  
  
"What I think doesn't matter," Frank told him, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with him. "It's what Joe believes." Fenton sighed heavily but did not speak.  
  
"Mom won't let you send him away," Frank stated after a few minutes of silence.  
  
"Your mother and I have been discussing this for sometime," Fenton replied, startling Frank. "We both agreed that if Joe did something even remotely close to what he did today that he would have to go to boarding school. I'm sorry, Frank," Fenton added with a glance at his eldest son as they neared home. "Joe will be leaving first thing in the morning." 


	23. Chapter 23

Joe?" Frank said from the doorway of the bathroom that connected his and Joe's bedrooms. "You okay?"  
  
"Peachy," Joe replied sarcastically, looking away from the open suitcase on his bed to his brother. "What are you doing up so early?"  
  
"School," answered Frank.  
  
"But your ankle," objected Joe.  
  
"It's not that bad," Frank said hobbling into Joe's room on his crutches. "Phil's stopping by to give me a ride to school and Callie is bringing me home this afternoon."  
  
"That's good," Joe said dropping some socks into his suitcase.  
  
"You should have packed last night," Frank said then bit his bottom lip. Joe was leaving and he shouldn't be lecturing him.  
  
"Why?" Joe asked bitterly. "It's a boarding school complete with uniforms and limited space. Apart from underwear and a few personal care items I'm not allowed to take anything."  
  
"You can take your auto magazines," suggested Frank knowing how much Joe liked them.  
  
Joe shook his head. "Mom and Dad have been planning this for some time," he said in the same bitter tone. "Dad gave me an admission letter last night telling me what items were acceptable." Joe slammed the case shut when it was barely half full and clicked the locks. "Tell everyone bye for me, huh?" he begged, looking directly into his brother's eyes for a fleeting second before turning away.  
  
"Hey, it's not forever," Frank said softly, trying to offer some comfort. It was breaking his heart to see his brother in so much pain. "You'll get to come home for Easter. That's only a few weeks away."  
  
"Oh, joy!" Joe replied without feeling. "I broke up with Vanessa last night," he added.  
  
"You....why?" demanded Frank, his eyes widening in surprise.  
  
"Why? I'm going away for crying out loud!" Joe reminded him. "What kind of relationship could we have?" Joe shook his head. "It wouldn't be fair to her to wait for holidays for me," he explained. "I may be exiled but there's no reason for her to have to suffer as well."  
  
"Joe, you aren't being exiled," Frank said, moving closer to him.  
  
"Then what do you call it?" demanded Joe, stepping away from his brother.  
  
"Joe, I..." Frank started but fell silent as his dad's voice came floating up the stairs.  
  
"Phil's here!" Fenton shouted.  
  
"Goodbye, brother," Joe said.  
  
"Joe..." Frank started to move closer to Joe again but stopped as Joe shook his head at him.  
  
"Don't," pleaded Joe. "This is hard enough. Just go."  
  
Frank nodded. "I love you," he said. "I'll write," he promised. Joe nodded and watched as Frank left the room.  
  
"Are you going to talk to me at all?" demanded Fenton as their plane prepared for landing later that afternoon.  
  
Joe kept his face turned to the window. Why should he talk to him? First his dad tells him he has to go to boarding school because of something he had done and then he is informed that his dad and mom had been planning on sending him to boarding school for some time. If he never spoke to his father again it would only be by accident! Joe fumed silently. I'll get over this. I'm a survivor. He gave a snort. I hope!  
  
Even though Joe knew he and his father would make up eventually, he also knew a rift had been created that would never completely heal. He turned to look at his father's profile.  
  
Fenton sat staring straight ahead. He could understand why Joe was mad at him. Heck! If he were Joe he would probably be throwing a tantrum right now. He was proud of Joe's self-control. He loved Joe very much and sending him away was breaking his heart but he was doing this for Joe's own good. Joe had to learn some discipline or he could very well do something that would get himself and Frank killed.   
  
Although he and Laura had tried, he knew they had failed. Joe was the youngest and as such was given more lenience than he should. And Frank loved his younger brother so much that not only was he constantly pulling Joe out of the fire but he also insisted on taking the blame when things went wrong.   
  
Fenton had spent many nights tossing and turning as he dreamed of the possible outcome of various scenarios where Joe would have to be the rescuer instead of Frank. None turned out well but the events of yesterday had put his nightmares to shame.  
  
No, Fenton resolved as he stared straight ahead, aware that his son was studying him and perhaps waiting for an opening to plead his case. This was for Joe's own protection. His and Frank's. Sending Joe to this boarding school was the only way to get Joe to learn to follow orders and face the consequences of his actions. No matter how much he wanted to take Joe back home, he knew he couldn't. 


	24. Chapter 24

"This is your room," Joe was informed later that afternoon. His dad had brought him to the school, signed him in, and assured him that he would pick him up for Easter Break and then left. "You have the handbook that Dean Stewart gave you?" asked the school secretary with the lift of a brow.  
  
"Yes," acknowledged Joe, setting his suitcase by the bare bed.  
  
"Good. You will need to read through it tonight," Joe was ordered. "Dinner begins at seven pm and ends at eight thirty in the dining hall. There is a map on the inside cover of the handbook. Lights out at ten thirty. You are not allowed to leave your room from ten thirty until six thirty when it is time to begin the day. Your first class is at eight am and the dean gave you your schedule with your handbook?"  
  
"Yes, Sir," Joe acknowledged meekly.  
  
"Report to Aaron Weigand in room 317, that's two floors down, to obtain your linen and uniforms," the secretary continued. "Any questions?"  
  
"Who is my roommate?" inquired Joe.  
  
"Jeff Hartley," was the answer. "Anything else?"  
  
Joe shook his head. "No. Thank you."  
  
"Don't look so down," the secretary told Joe in a kind voice. "We're not such a bad lot once you get to know us."  
  
"I'm sure you're not," Joe replied politely. What was his name again? Oh yeah, Joe remembered. Steve Goodman.  
  
Joe waited until Mr. Goodman had left before opening his suitcase. He emptied the meager contents into the empty drawer at the bottom of the chest near the window. He gazed out the window at the ground covered with a light layer of snow for a few minutes then left the room, noting there was no lock on it and made his way to the third floor to obtain his new uniforms and bed linen.  
  
An hour later he had his bed made and was sitting at one of the desks in the room wearing his navy uniform and reading the handbook when the door opened and a young man with curly brown hair and green eyes entered the room.  
  
"Make yourself at home," said the boy coming inside and tossing some books onto the bed opposite Joe's.  
  
"Oh, do I have a choice?" Joe retorted sarcastically.  
  
The boy opened his mouth to return the snide remark but his new roommate's eyes were so sad that the verbal rebuttal died before it was born. "I'm Jeff Hartley," he said instead.  
  
"Joe Hardy," Joe introduced himself.  
  
"Memorizing the do's and don'ts?" asked Jeff, sitting down on his bed.  
  
"Trying too," acknowledged Joe with a scowl. "But there are so many."  
  
"I know," Jeff agreed. "This is probably the strictest non-military boarding school in the country."  
  
"Figures," Joe said bitterly.  
  
"You don't sound too happy," Jeff observed.  
  
"Why should I be?" Joe demanded. "My parents decided they didn't want me around anymore."  
  
"That's not necessarily bad," Jeff said. "I had to beg my parents to send me here."  
  
"You wanted to go to boarding school?" Joe demanded in shocked surprise.  
  
Jeff shrugged. "It was better than hanging around and watching them fight over how I should be raised."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Dad wants me to go into the family business," Jeff explained. "He wanted me to start getting involved on my sixteenth birthday but mom wants me to be a doctor instead."  
  
"What do you want?" asked Joe.  
  
"Truthfully, I don't know," Jeff answered. "But I don't want to go into the family business and I don't want to be a doctor. How about you?"  
  
"Mom wants me to be a doctor or lawyer," Joe said. "Must be some universal mom thing," he added with a smile. "I'm not sure about Dad. I thought he wanted my brother and me to follow in his footsteps but after yesterday, I don't think so."  
  
"What happened yesterday?" asked Jeff curiously.  
  
"Dad said I screwed up," Joe confessed. "But I don't think that I did. I mean, something happened that wasn't a part of my plan but Morrison instigated the confrontation when he had Leland put me on McFadden's trail. So that was really his fault; not mine," Joe ended thoughtfully.  
  
"Whoa, hold on," Jeff interjected although Joe had already finished talking before the last word left his mouth. "Who are you talking about? What are you talking about?"  
  
"It's a long story," Joe said, shaking his head.  
  
"We've got some time before the dining hall opens," Jeff said. "So spill."  
  
After a slight hesitation, Joe did just that. He told Jeff about his resemblance to Leland and how his abduction had been planned so his dad would trust Leland when they escaped and how he had realized Morrison planned to use that trust to eliminate his enemies.  
  
"Sounds to me like you did your dad a favor," Jeff commented when Joe had finished.  
  
"Yeah," Joe agreed. "I thought so too, but he tripped out."  
  
"Could be he's just worried about you and wants you to choose another career so you will be safe," suggested Jeff.  
  
"But he didn't send Frank away," Joe pointed out.  
  
"You're the baby of the family, right?" asked Jeff.   
  
"Yeah, but..."  
  
"Well, that explains it," Jeff continued, ignoring Joe's attempt at an interruption. "The youngest members of the family are expected to be more prone to getting into trouble and less conscious of their own safety."  
  
"But I'm..." Joe started to say he wasn't but the truth of the matter was quite the opposite. He was always getting into trouble even if it wasn't always his fault and he did act without thinking because he knew Frank would always be there to get him out of whatever he had gotten into. Only this time, Frank had been the one in trouble and he hadn't considered all the consequences before rushing in. Was that why his dad had sent him away? For his own safety? Of course that was the reason! Joe's s mind screamed at him. Remember what he said? You nearly got yourself, Frank and your friends killed!  
  
"You okay, man?" Jeff asked, seeing how green Joe was turning.  
  
"I'm fine," Joe replied with a wan smile. "I guess you're right. I am a menace."  
  
"I didn't say that" Jeff objected.  
  
"Not directly," agreed Joe. "But dad did. I guess sending me here was the only way he could make sure I didn't get anyone hurt...including me."  
  
"Going to stick around?" Jeff asked.  
  
"Yeah," Joe decided. "I honestly don't think breaking the rules would get me home. To another school, maybe," he amended. "But I kind of like my new roommate."  
  
"Well, I hope you still like me when I tell you what my family business is," Jeff said  
  
Joe looked at him questioningly. "My father is Thomas Hartley," Jeff informed Joe. "He works for McFadden." 


	25. Chapter 25

Joe closed his eyes. "I guess you're going to hate me now," he said, wishing he hadn't told Jeff anything.  
  
"Not if you don't hate me," Jeff replied with a firm shake of his head. "I told you, I don't want to be involved in my dad's business."  
  
"But I do want to be involved in my dad's," Joe pointed out.  
  
"That doesn't have to cause any strife," Jeff insisted. "You don't talk about your dad and I won't talk about mine."  
  
"Deal," Joe agreed smiling. "But if our dads find out, we're toast."  
  
"They won't," Jeff assured him. "My dad never comes around. He just sends me a ticket when the holidays arrive."  
  
"Cool," Joe commented, seeing nothing wrong with the arrangement. He liked Jeff and the fact that his father, who wasn't even around, was a known criminal shouldn't affect their friendship. After all, it wasn't his fault he had McFadden's right-hand's son for a roommate.  
  
When Frank arrived home from school that afternoon, he was surprised to find his mother there. "Let me take that," she said, taking his backpack from him as he opened the door.  
  
"Thanks," said Frank relinquishing his pack. A horn tooted from behind him and he turned and waved at Callie as she drove away.  
  
"Why didn't Callie come in?" Laura asked as she followed Frank into the living room.  
  
"She's meeting her dad downtown," Frank explained. "What are you doing home so early?" he asked. "I thought you weren't coming back until your cousin got out of her cast."  
  
"Joe called me last night," Laura said.  
  
"And you agreed with Dad," Frank said looking at her reproachfully.  
  
"Frank, please try to understand?" she begged. "If something doesn't change, Joe is going to get himself killed."  
  
"I won't let him," Frank insisted. "I watch out for him."  
  
"But you didn't yesterday," Laura said, crying.  
  
"I..." Frank tried to protest but his mother put two fingers to his lips to silence him.  
  
"Things happen," she told him. "You won't always be there for him. If he doesn't start facing the consequences of his actions he will never learn that there are times when it's not okay to act on his own. He will keep doing whatever he thinks he should at that moment without considering the outcome. Frank, if he keeps on the way he's been going, he will get himself killed," she reiterated. "And none of us, not even you, will be able to prevent it."  
  
"Do you really think sending him away will change that?" asked Frank.  
  
"We have to try," Laura said.  
  
"What if it changes him?" asked Frank. "He thinks you don't want him anymore."  
  
"That's not true!" Laura snapped. "Your father and I love Joe, and you, very much. We would do anything for either of you. Believe it or not, this is more painful for us than him."  
  
"Did you get back in time to say goodbye?" asked Frank, feeling a bit contrite.  
  
"No," answered Laura. "I don't think it mattered to Joe, though. Fenton called right before you pulled up outside. He was on his way back to the airport after leaving him. He said Joe hadn't spoken to him since yesterday."  
  
"I can't say that I blame him," Frank replied as the phone rang.  
  
Laura picked up the receiver. "Hardy residence," she answered. "No, Ezra, he took Joe to the academy and won't be back until later." She was quiet for a moment as Ezra spoke. "Of course. Here he is," she said and handed Frank the phone.  
  
"Hello, Chief," said Frank.  
  
"McFadden is out," Collig informed Frank. "You had better keep your guard up."  
  
"We will," promised Frank. "I'll turn on the alarm now."  
  
"I guess it's a good thing Joe is gone," Collig said. "He should be safe at school."  
  
"I hope so," Frank said with a worried frown on his face.  
  
"What do you mean I don't have a case?" demanded McFadden glaring at his lawyer. "That kid tricked me into going there. That's entrapment."  
  
"He's a kid; not a cop," Sven Borg explained calmly. He hated it when his clients threw tantrums. "Plus, there were no officers present when you got to Morrison's. They all arrived while you were outside with the kid."  
  
"So?" demanded McFadden.  
  
"So, you were tricked by a kid not the cops," Hartley told his boss. "It's not entrapment."  
  
"I wish I could get my hands on that brat," snarled McFadden with an evil gleam in his eyes.  
  
"We pretty much have too," Hartley told him.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because he's a key witness for the prosecution," Borg stated.  
  
"Why?" McFadden repeated. "They have evidence," he sneered.  
  
"They must not have enough," Borg replied.  
  
"Because the kid is gone," Hartley informed McFadden before he got really pissed off. "Hardy took him somewhere this morning."  
  
"Then find him," McFadden ordered. "I want him alive."  
  
"Alive?" Hartley asked in shock.  
  
"Yeah," McFadden replied with a smile. "I want to be the one to kill him." 


	26. Chapter 26

It was late when Fenton arrived home. Laura heard his car pull into the drive and turned off the alarm then went to greet him. "Ezra called," she told him as he entered the house. "He said McFadden is out on bail."  
  
"Not for long," Fenton assured her with a hug and a quick kiss on her lips. "Some of McFadden's men have turned state's evidence. After the trial, he'll never be free again."  
  
"But what about now?" Laura asked. "What if he goes after Joe for revenge?"  
  
"Another positive side to Joe's being in boarding school," Fenton pointed out. "McFadden won't be able to find him." He looked around the living room as he headed toward the kitchen. "Where's Frank?" he asked.  
  
"Chet, Phil, Tony and Biff came by a little while ago and took him out," Laura informed him. "They knew he was depressed with Joe gone."  
  
"They're good friends," Fenton said.  
  
"So is Vanessa," Laura put in as Fenton sat down at the kitchen table. As she set about fixing Fenton a late supper she explained. "Apparently, Joe broke up with her because he didn't want her to miss out on the prom and everything but she told me she wasn't accepting the break-up. She wanted his address so she could write to him."  
  
"You didn't give it to her, did you?" asked Fenton quickly.  
  
"Of course not," Laura denied with a frown. What kind of an idiot did he take her for? "I told her she could write the letter and we would see that he gets it. I told her we had to keep his whereabouts a secret until after the trial," she added. "I didn't want to hurt her anymore than she already has been."  
  
"I did do the right thing?" Fenton asked, looking at her with sad eyes.  
  
"Yes," she stated firmly, her eyes not wavering from his. "We discussed this," she reminded him. "He has to go there. His life, and Frank's, may depend on it."  
  
"I'm sorry," apologized Frank. "I'm just not in the mood for this."  
  
"We know," Chet said. "That's why we brought you."  
  
"We're trying to get you in the mood," Phil explained.  
  
"I know," Frank said with a wan smile. "And I appreciate it, but it's just not the same without Joe."  
  
"How long are your folks going to stay mad at him?" asked Biff.  
  
"They aren't mad at him," Frank defended his parents. "They just think a few months in a more disciplined environment will do him some good."  
  
"How long?" Chet demanded, his eyes widening.  
  
"He gets to come home for Easter Break in about three weeks," Frank said.   
  
"But he has to go back?" Biff asked. Frank nodded. "I don't get it," Biff continued. "What did he do that was so terrible that they had to send him away?"  
  
"He nearly got himself, and you guys, killed," Frank gave the answer he had been given.  
  
"Whoa!" Phil; snapped angrily. "Hold it right there. What we did, we did on our own."  
  
"He's right," agreed Biff. "Joe had me get you out and that was it. I wasn't supposed to go back at all."  
  
"And we didn't even get there until after Joe had already been taken prisoner," Tony reminded him. "It wasn't Joe's fault."  
  
"I wish we could tell Dad that but I get the feeling it wouldn't help any," said Frank, looking miserable.  
  
"It's worth a try," Tony suggested.  
  
A man with close-cropped brown hair and green eyes got up from the booth next to the one Frank and his friends were in and went to the bathroom. He waited until the other occupant exited then locked himself inside and pulled out a cell phone.  
  
"Boss, you ain't gonna believe this," Hartley told McFadden when he answered. "Hardy took his kid away because he was punishing him; not to protect him."  
  
"So getting him once we know where he is at should be easy," McFadden responded, his pleasure coming through in his tone. He had already been planning on how he was going to kill the brat. "Excellent. Now we only need to find out where he is."  
  
"Boarding school, maybe?" Hartley suggested. "Frank said he'll be home for Easter Break and my Jeffery comes home for the holidays."  
  
"Possible," McFadden acknowledged. "Come on back," he ordered Hartley. "I'll have some of the boys break in and see if they can find a trace of where he has gone. The Hardy's are bound to have an address where they can write to him."  
  
"Their friends seem to know where he's gone," Hartley said. "Want me to work one over until he gives it up?"  
  
"Let's see what we can turn up at the Hardys first," McFadden declined the suggestion.  
  
"Whatever you say," Hartley agreed. "I'm on my way back," he ended. He put up his cell phone, used one of the urinals then unlocked the door and left the restaurant.  
  
"Look. I appreciate what you boys are trying to do," Fenton told his sons' friends that evening when they brought Frank home and told him they took full responsibility for their actions the previous afternoon. "But it really doesn't affect my decision."  
  
"But that's not fair!" Biff protested loudly. "He didn't do anything to jeopardize anyone but himself and some lowlifes."  
  
"And it was their fault to begin with," Phil pointed out. "Joe didn't ask Morrison to get him involved."  
  
"No. Joe got involved on his own," Fenton interrupted him.  
  
"He was trying to help someone he thought was his friend," Chet defended his pal. "That's what makes Joe...Joe. He likes to help people."  
  
"And he nearly gets himself killed in the process," Fenton pointed out stubbornly. "I will not let Joe die because he doesn't know when he shouldn't interfere."  
  
"Would you rather he didn't care at all?" Frank demanded, not believing how lame his father's argument seemed in light of what was being said. "Would you rather he turn his back on someone who needed him?"  
  
"No, of course not!" Fenton denied. "All I want if for Joe to stop and think about what the outcome will be. I admit, his involvement with Leland and Morrison was not his doing but he did know what he was doing when he went to see McFadden."  
  
"You're right," agreed Biff. "That's why he made me wait in the van while he went inside. If he didn't come back out I was supposed to call the police."  
  
"You were?" asked Fenton in surprise.  
  
"And he knew it was dangerous when we were at Morrison's," Biff continued. "He was only keeping watch but when Frank and I were nearly caught then he created a diversion. He did it so Frank and I could get away."  
  
"But I was on the way," Fenton said wearily. "He should have waited for me."  
  
"If he had, I would be dead," Frank stated, watching his father's face closely. "There's more to your sending Joe away than you've let on," he accused his father. "And it's time you told me."  
  
It was obvious from the blush that crept up Fenton's face that Frank was correct in his assumption. "We'll be off now," Phil said, aware the two Hardys were about to have a very heated discussion. The other boys followed Phil outside. Biff wore a big smirk and Phil, Chet and Tony couldn't help but smile as well. They knew the Hardy with the biggest temper wasn't Joe; it was Frank! And since the argument was about Joe, they also knew without a doubt that Frank would win. 


	27. Chapter 27

"Talk," ordered Frank after his friends had left.  
  
"Tomorrow," Fenton said, starting to leave the living room. He stopped abruptly as the crutches Frank had been using crashed into the wall beside him. Fenton turned around prepared to deliver an angry command but kept his mouth shut as his eyes met the furious ones of his eldest son.  
  
"You told Joe that you were sending him away because he did something wrong," Frank said, his voice a bit quieter than normal. "You made him feel like you didn't want anymore. Don't you? Is that why you sent him away?"  
  
"Don't you ever suggest that I don't want or love Joseph," Fenton snarled, taking a feral step toward Frank. "Are you so blind you believe you care more about him than I do? Than your mother does? He's your brother but he's my flesh and blood and I love him more than you will ever be able too; no matter how close you are."  
  
"Then why?" asked Frank, not doubting the sincerity of his father's feelings. "Why did you send him away?"  
  
"For the reasons I said," Fenton told him honestly. "So he can learn to follow orders and think before he acts. His life, and yours, will depend on it."  
  
"What do you mean by that remark?" demanded Frank.  
  
"I can't tell you anything more," Fenton stated. "But soon, I promise, you, and your brother, will know everything." Fenton picked up Frank's crutches and handed them to him. "Get some sleep," he ordered. "Joe's safe for now and that's the important thing," he added before going upstairs and following his wife to bed.  
  
His thoughts on the cryptic remarks his father had made, Frank forgot to turn on the alarm system. He hobbled to the steps and jumped up them on his good foot and went to his room.  
  
"Fenton!" Laura screamed the next morning on her way past Joe's bedroom.  
  
"What?" demanded Fenton, running into the hall clad in a pair of pajama pants. His face was half covered in shaving cream and the razor he had been using was still in his hand.  
  
"What's wrong?" asked Frank, opening his door and hobbling into the hall to join them.  
  
"Someone's been in the house," Laura answered.  
  
Fenton's gaze swept past his wife to Joe's open bedroom door and the mess that lay within. "Someone has demolished it," stated Frank, his gaze also on the devastation inside.  
  
"Go back to our room and lock the door," Fenton ordered Laura. "And call the police," he added to her retreating back. "Wait here," he instructed Frank. "I'll check the place out."  
  
Frank gritted his teeth but remained where he was. In his current condition there wasn't a lot he could do.  
  
Fenton began looking around Joe's room, careful not to disturb anything. He then moved from room to room, finishing in the downstairs kitchen were he at once saw how the intruders had entered the premises. The kitchen window had a pane missing. His mouth set in a grim line, he returned upstairs.  
  
"No one is here now," Fenton informed Frank. "But stay in your room until the police get through. Every room except your room and your mother's and mine has been ransacked." He shook his head. "They were professionals," he continued. "They didn't break the glass on the door to get in, they removed the pane. I just don't understand why the alarm didn't go off."  
  
Frank blushed. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I forgot to turn it on before I came upstairs last night."  
  
Fenton looked surprised and then contrite. "No, it's my fault. I should have taken care of it. I know you've hurt your ankle."  
  
"That's no excuse," Frank said. "I screwed up. Maybe you should send me to boarding school so I can learn some responsibility?" he suggested, hoping his dad would go for it but doubting it.  
  
"Nice try," Fenton replied wryly. "But I think I'll give you a few more chances."  
  
"Why won't you tell me why you sent Joe away?" Frank demanded.  
  
Fenton sighed wearily. And people think Joe is the stubborn one!' he thought. "The house could have been bugged," Fenton responded, knowing that would silence Frank if only for a little while.  
  
Frank glared at his father then returned to his room and pulled out a pen and a sheet of paper. Something was going on and Joe had a right to know about it. He paused before he began writing. If something major was going on then the letter might be intercepted. He smiled as he began writing. He and Joe had worked out a secret code years ago that even their dad hadn't been able to figure out. He would use that to let Joe in on what was going on. He would be vague just in case someone did see through the code but then, he realized, no matter what he said it would be vague. He still didn't know what was going on.  
  
"Ouch!" Jeff winced when he looked at Joe's class schedule over breakfast.  
  
"What's wrong?" asked Joe.  
  
"Everything," answered Jeff, handing the sheet back to Joe. "For starters, your classes are in a crazy geographical order."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Your first class is in the science building that is about a ten-minute hike from here," Jeff began. "Your second class is in the math building which is also about a ten-minute hike from here but..."  
  
"But twenty minutes from my chem class," Joe caught on. "Why aren't the science and math buildings closer together?"  
  
"The science building is new," Jeff explained. "The old science building has been converted into the health and fitness building."  
  
"Where I have gym," Joe stated.  
  
"Right, but you've got history in Abington which is located two buildings over from the new science building after your trigonometry class," Jeff said. "And right before gym you have English."  
  
"Yeah, but that's right after my French class," Joe said. "And those two are close..." he broke off as Jeff shook his head.  
  
"Not here," Jeff said, knowing Joe expected the languages to be in the same building. "They are also on opposite ends of campus."  
  
"Peachy," moaned Joe. "I'll be doing double time to make it to most of my classes on time. The only ones I won't have to rush to are chem and French because I can cut out of the cafeteria early." He narrowed his eyes on Jeff. "What else is wrong with my schedule?"  
  
"You've got some of the toughest instructors on campus," Jeff said. "Watson gives excessive amounts of homework. Allman is a stickler for being on time. If you're late, he gives extra assignments. If you turn them in late, he marks you down a letter grade for each day and he doubles the assignment."   
  
Joe groaned and buried his head in his hands as Jeff continued. "Baldwin, your gym teacher, keeps you moving every second and he loves making you do exercises and laps. If you're late to his class or do something wrong, he'll give you a minimum of ten laps and thirty minutes of push-ups. Henri conducts his classes completely in French," Jeff added, giving Joe a sympathetic smile. "And if you don't understand what he says you're better off to guess because he answers all questions in French."  
  
"What about Scottsdale and Barnes?" asked Joe, wondering if his history and English teachers were also going to be tough.  
  
"Couldn't say," replied Jeff. "I haven't had either of them and neither have Ken or Steve."  
  
"Ken and Steve?" asked Joe with the lift of a brow.  
  
"My friends," Jeff answered. "They should be joining us soon. They both like to sleep as late as they can."  
  
As the day progressed, Joe discovered that Jeff had been right on the mark. Fortunately, he was spared extra assignments because he ended up sprinting to his classes. Running was not allowed in the halls but outside was a different matter and one of the other student's had warned him how slow the elevators were so Joe used the stairs and took them two at a time.  
  
He arrived in his history class with an entire two minutes to spare. "You're early," commented Mr. Scottsdale, looking down his long, pointed nose at Joe as he entered.  
  
"Yes, Sir," acknowledged Joe. "It's my first day and I wanted to find a seat."  
  
"Tell me, Mr...?" Scottsdale lifted a brow in question.  
  
"Joe Hardy, Sir," Joe replied politely.  
  
"Tell me, Mr. Hardy," Scottsdale said, looking at Joe with a glint in his hazel eyes. "What do you expect to learn in my class?"  
  
"Whatever you teach me," Joe answered, puzzled by the question.  
  
"A pathetic answer from a mediocre, at best, mind," Scottsdale replied. "Think about it and tomorrow I want an essay telling me what you expect to learn in my class." 


	28. Chapter 28

"Frank," Fenton poked his head into Frank's room a little over an hour later. "Can we come in?"  
  
"Sure," Frank answered, turning the paper over that he was writing on so it couldn't be seen.  
  
Fenton entered Frank's room followed by Chief Collig. "I just have to ask you the usual set of questions," Collig said.  
  
"I'll save you the trouble," returned Frank. "I forgot to turn the alarm on last night. No, I didn't see or hear anything and I had no idea anyone had been in the house until mom screamed. And I don't have any idea what the intruder was looking for."  
  
"We actually have a pretty good idea on that," Fenton informed him grimly. "Nothing was taken except the items on the desk downstairs and from the desk in my office," he informed Frank. "Oh, and the mail from the kitchen table."  
  
"What about mom's checkbook record?" demanded Frank in alarm. Household expenses were kept track of via his mother's management and the check written to the boarding school would be listed.  
  
"It was taken," Fenton stated.  
  
"McFadden's trying to find Joe," Frank deduced what his dad and Chief Collig already knew. "We've got to get Joe out of there," he declared, standing up and wincing as he put pressure on his sore ankle without thinking.  
  
"Easy, Son," Fenton said, gently pushing Frank back down. "We didn't use a check to pay for Joe's tuition and the address hasn't been written down anywhere so they couldn't have gotten their hands on it."  
  
"What about the acceptance letter or the information you had on the school?" demanded Frank. "You must have gotten information on the school when you first considered it."  
  
"Joe took the letter with him," Fenton said calmly. "And I destroyed all the information we received on the school as soon as Laura and I agreed on it."  
  
"Why?" asked Frank looking at his father suspiciously.  
  
"In case something like this happened," Fenton answered honestly. "We don't want anyone going after your brother. Now, get ready for school," he instructed. "I'll drive you."  
  
Frank nodded his agreement and the two men left him alone. Frank quickly finished his letter and put it in an envelope. He didn't even know where to send it but he would make his dad give him the address in the car.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Frank hobbled out of his room with his backpack slung over one shoulder and the letter tucked into his front pocket.  
  
"They're leaving," said a thickset man with curly black hair into the cell phone he was holding as he watched Fenton and Frank exit the house. "The woman is still inside."  
  
"Get the woman," Hartley ordered from the other end. "She will know where her son is."  
  
"There are two cops still hanging around the place," the man informed Hartley with a scowl.  
  
"Blast it," snarled Hartley. "Follow Hardy and son and grab them the first chance you get. The boss wants the blond kid now."  
  
"Can we stop at the post office?" asked Frank once they were underway.  
  
"Why?" asked Fenton.  
  
"I want to send Joe a letter," Frank answered.  
  
"I don't think that's a good idea," Fenton replied with a shake of his head. "It could be intercepted."  
  
"That's why I didn't want to leave it for the mailman," Frank said reasonably. He removed the letter from his pocket and wrote Joe's name down on the front. "Now, give me the address?" he asked his father.  
  
"I can't do that," Fenton replied, dreading the blow up he knew was coming.  
  
"Why not?" demanded Frank angrily. "You know I won't give it to anyone."  
  
"That isn't the reason," Fenton said.  
  
"It can't be gotten to if it's dropped inside the post office," Frank pointed out.  
  
"That isn't the reason, either," Fenton denied.  
  
"Then what is the reason?" Frank ground out through clenched teeth.  
  
"We aren't allowed contact with him for the first two weeks," Fenton answered.  
  
"That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!" shouted Frank. "It sounds more like a prison or training camp than a school." He froze briefly before turning to face his dad who kept his eyes on the road ahead.  
  
"It's not a boarding school at all, is it?" demanded Frank. "You sent him to some kind of training camp. Why?"  
  
"Because I don't want you working alone," confessed Fenton. "And the only way I could get clearance for your brother to help is if he were sent to the academy to be prepped."  
  
"Clearance for what?" demanded Frank. "And what kind of prepping?"  
  
"I can't tell you," Fenton said. "Suffice it to say, it involves national security and it's extremely dangerous." He looked at Frank after bringing the car to a stop at the drive-thru of a morning fast-food place. "I know this is hard on you. I know it's even harder on Joe. But unless Joe can learn to control himself in certain situations then the mission will be scrapped and certainly hundreds, possibly millions, of people will lose their lives." 


	29. Chapter 29

"So, how are they going?" asked Jeff when Joe sat down for lunch.  
  
Joe scowled. "Great until I got to Scottsdale's class," he said. "I got there two whole minutes early and he asked me a question that had nothing to do with history or any subject for that matter and because he didn't like my answer he assigned me an essay in addition to the homework he ended up giving."  
  
"Don't take it to heart," said Steve Fledge, a tall, lanky youth whose serious expression reminded Joe of Frank. "All of the teachers here are tough."   
  
"Amen to that," seconded Ken Wingate, a boy with the same general build and characteristics as Joe. "I swear, the teachers are more like drill sergeants than teachers."  
  
"And the rules!" Steve added with a shake of his head. "Have you read them all yet?" he asked Joe who nodded his head glumly. "It's like you can't breathe without permission."  
  
"You know, you're right," Joe agreed thoughtfully. "I've got a few friends who go to boarding school in Europe and this place is nothing like they've mentioned. He looked at Steve and Ken. "Did you two beg to come here too?" he asked, tossing an unbelieving glance at Jeff.  
  
"No way!" denied Ken as Steven shook his head. "My dad's a marine and he said I needed to grow up and stop wasting my time. He thought this place was perfect."  
  
"Why are you here?" asked Joe of Steve. "Is your dad in the service too?"  
  
"No," Steve answered. "My dad owns a novelty shop in New York City. I kind of got involved with a gang and he blew his top and sent me here."  
  
"Hmm," murmured Joe. "I wonder why the other kids are here?"  
  
"Why do you want to know?" asked Ken curiously.  
  
"Well, the four of us are a strange clientele," Joe pointed out. "I always thought boarding schools were for the rich: not the offspring of marines, shop owners and detectives."  
  
"And crooks," Jeff added wryly. Joe looked at him in surprise. "It's okay," Jeff told him. "I don't keep secrets from my friends."  
  
"Want to ask around?" Joe asked in a conspiratorial whisper.  
  
"You really do want to be a detective, don't you?" asked Jeff.  
  
Joe nodded. "And boarding school isn't going to stop me."  
  
"Hey!" Phil greeted Frank as he hobbled into the building. "How's the ankle?"  
  
"Getting better," Frank replied. "Listen, can you do me a big favor without letting anyone know?"  
  
Phil looked hurt. "You know I can keep a secret."  
  
"I know," returned Frank. "But that isn't what I meant. I need the lowdown on the school Joe went to but you can't leave any tracks."  
  
"None?" Phil asked with a worried frown. "Why? What's going on?"  
  
"Honestly, I'm not sure," confessed Frank. "But the boarding school Joe went to isn't a real boarding school."  
  
"Your dad know that?" asked Phil sharply. Frank nodded. "Are you sure you want to do this?"  
  
"McFadden is after Joe," Frank said. "Some of his men broke into the house last night while we were sleeping and turned it upside down . If they did find anything about the school, I want to know how secure it is."  
  
"It won't be easy," Phil said. "Even for a hacker like me." Frank just looked pleadingly at him with his big brown eyes that so resembled those of a puppy. "I'll do my best," Phil said with a sigh.  
  
"Thanks, pal," Frank said. "I appreciate it."  
  
"You better," Phil growled before smiling. "What's the name of the school?"  
  
"I don't know," Frank admitted. "But I did get Dad to tell me that it was in southwestern Virginia."  
  
"Oh, boy," Phil said softly. "Come on," he said. "I'll walk you to class."  
  
The day passed quickly but still, when the final bell sounded, Frank heaved a sigh of relief and hurried to his locker.  
  
"For a man with a bum ankle you're hard to catch up with," laughed Callie coming up behind him.  
  
"Sorry," apologized Frank with a sheepish grin. "I'm just in a hurry to get home."  
  
"Why?" asked Callie.  
  
"Someone broke in last night," Frank informed her. He had skipped lunch choosing instead to get a start on his homework in the library, and so hadn't seen her to tell her about the break-in. "I want to see if the police have come up with anything."  
  
"Need a lift?" she offered.  
  
"No thanks," Frank replied with a smile and a shake of his head. "Dad's picking me up. But thanks," he added, closing his locker.  
  
"Anytime," Callie said. "Call me later?"  
  
"You bet," he agreed. After a quick kiss, he made his way outside and down the sidewalk to where he saw his father's car parked.  
  
"How was school?" Fenton asked as he got out to help Frank into the vehicle.  
  
"Long," was Frank's response. "Any word on the break-in?"  
  
"No," Fenton replied and shut Frank's door. He returned to the driver's seat. "We'll just have to keep our guards up until the trial."  
  
"Does Joe have to testify?" asked Frank.  
  
"Maybe," Fenton admitted. "But his won't be the main testimony," he added.  
  
"Then why is McFadden so set on finding Joe?" wondered Frank.  
  
"Revenge for getting him to go to Morrison's?" suggested Fenton with a slight shrug. "We have a tail," he announced a few minutes later. "A gold Taurus."  
  
"I see it," Frank acknowledged, looking out the side mirror. "He's getting closer."  
  
"Figures," said Fenton. "This patch of road is deserted," he added, stepping on the gas. He hoped he could get to the main turn off before the Taurus got close enough to attack.  
  
Fenton glanced in the rearview mirror and saw it gaining fast. "Dad!" Frank shouted, reaching over and jerking the wheel out of his hands.  
  
Fenton looked through the front windshield as the car began to spin out of control. A blue Ford truck had pulled in front of their car from a side road barely twenty feet in front of them. Fenton clutched the wheel and closed his eyes as he braced for impact. 


	30. Chapter 30

It was dinnertime at the academy and Joe, Jeff, Ken and Steve were huddled together at one of the tables. Feeling a bit paranoid for some reason, Joe had looked under the table and chairs, ignoring the raised eyebrows of some students and the sniggers of others while he searched for anything that could be construed as an electronic listening device before his friends arrived.  
  
"What were you doing?" Jeff asked curiously. Joe raised an eyebrow questioningly. "I saw you crawling out from under the table when I came in," he explained.  
  
Joe shrugged sheepishly. "Just looking around," he said without elaborating. "Did you talk to any of the other students?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," Ken said. "No one wanted to come here. But get this...they either got in trouble with the law or one or more of their parents is in some kind of service."  
  
"What?" Jeff demanded clarification.  
  
"Marines, Air Force, Coast Guard, police, district attorney, FBI, that sort of thing," Ken explained.  
  
"And the ones who got into trouble?" Joe asked. "What kind?"  
  
"Different stuff," Ken answered. "But they all got caught after eluding the cops on more than one occasion."  
  
"I got pretty much the same responses from the people I talked with," Jeff put in.  
  
"Ditto," agreed Steve. "Sounds too strange to be a coincidence."  
  
"What about the teachers?" asked Joe. "Any of you know any background?" All three boys shook their heads.  
  
"I guess it's time to check out the personnel files," Joe said.  
  
"Not possible," said Steve, frowning at Joe. "There's no way to get into the office without Goodman or the Dean around. And if we get caught out of our rooms after hours we'll get into trouble with a capital T!"  
  
"What about the computer?" asked Joe. "We could..." he broke off as Jeff shook his head.  
  
"No can do," Jeff told him. "The school computers all have some sort of spy ware."  
  
"Not to mention firewalls," put in Ken.  
  
"So the office it has to be," stated Joe.  
  
"You're off your rocker!" hissed Jeff.  
  
"I'll go in," Joe said reasonably. "I just need you three to keep Goodman and the dean occupied for about thirty minutes."  
  
"Too risky," Steve bucked at the plan.  
  
"Come on," Jeff tried to cajole him. "I'm with Joe. This isn't your normal everyday boarding school. Don't you want to find out the real scoop on this place?"  
  
"I guess so," Steve replied a bit reluctantly. He eyed Joe warily. "When do you want to go in?"  
  
"No time like the present," answered Joe, leaning in closer to tell his friends his plan.  
  
"Frank. Son. Are you all right?" Fenton demanded as he gripped Frank's shoulder.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine," answered Frank slowly. He winced slightly as he moved his right arm. "I think I'm going to have a nasty bruise, though."  
  
"That's the least of our worries, I'm afraid," Fenton remarked as he watched the Taurus come to a stop next to them.  
  
Two men exited the Taurus and two more the blue truck whose rear-end was dented from the impact. "Out of the car," ordered one of the men. He was the same height as Frank with green eyes and curly dark brown hair. His heavily jeweled hand held a '38 that was pointed at Fenton's head through the open window.  
  
Fenton waited until his door was pulled open before unbuckling and getting out of the car. Frank undid his safety belt and slid across the seat to exit on his dad's side. Both Hardys raised their hands in the air as the man waved his gun at them and motioned for them to step aside.  
  
Fenton took slow steps, casting frequent glances at Frank to make sure he could safely hobble along with him. Once they were several feet away from the car, two of the men got in and searched it. When they got back out, they had Frank's backpack and all the papers that had been in the glove compartment.  
  
"Bobby, Jimmy," said the guy who still held his weapon steady of the Hardys. "You take the kid. We'll bring the old man."  
  
"No!" objected Fenton, only to be quieted by a fist to his solar plexus.  
  
"Relax, old man," he was ordered. "You are both going to the same place. I just figure you will be easier to handle if you're alone."  
  
"What are you after?" demanded Frank.  
  
"The whereabouts of your brother," was the reply. "After you tell us where he is and we confirm his location, you will both be free to go."  
  
"Never," Frank declared calmly, his eyes meeting his captors in defense.  
  
"Oh, I think we can change your mind," the man said with an evil smile. "And if not yours, your father's." 


	31. Chapter 31

Joe watched from his hiding place for Ken to put in an appearance. He would draw the secretary away from the office and then Jeff would deal with the dean. His blue eyes sparkled when he saw Ken pulling double time to reach the office. Seconds later Ken left with Goodman following close behind. He glanced at his watch then back to the end of the hallway. There was Jeff. He would get the dean to accompany him to Steve's room on the other side of campus where Steve would be feigning being ill. Well, almost faking, Joe amended silently. Steve had gotten sick after eating the Jell-O surprise for dessert. Apparently, he had a history of a mild allergic reaction to pineapple.  
  
Joe waited for Jeff and the Dean to leave then left his hiding place and crouched at the Dean's door. He turned the knob. Locked. Oh, well, thought Joe, he had expected this. He quickly pried the lock open with the nail file he had taken from his personal grooming items and slipped inside.  
  
Joe skipped the secretary's section and headed for the Dean's inner sanctum. Spying the file cabinet in the corner he went straight for it. Pulling open the drawer where Scottsdale would be he began searching but found nothing.  
  
"Where would he keep the personnel files?" Joe wondered softly. His eyes flew to the computer. Surely the Dean's computer wouldn't be infected with the spy ware.  
  
He took a seat in front of the keyboard and began running his fingers swiftly over the keys. Soon he was staring at Scottsdale's file in awe. He checked his other teachers. They all had similar references. Joe decided to search for the school's mission statement. He found it without too much trouble and read it through with a mixture of shock, anger, hurt and curiosity.  
  
Joe found it hard to believe that the students had no idea why they were there and yet he was living proof that knowledge of the schools' true missive was not a prerequisite for attendance. It wasn't right that the students didn't know what was really going on. What if they didn't want to pursue this particular career choice?  
  
I do, Joe thought, wiping his fingerprints from the keyboard with his shirtsleeve. But even so, Dad didn't tell me about this place. He just sent me here. Joe erased all evidence of his trespass and left the office. Returning to the room he shared with Jeff he considered being the perfect student but quickly eliminated the idea because while he wasn't a slacker, he did hate to study. He also considered breaking the rules just so he would be expelled but then he might never find out why he had been sent here in the first place. He heaved a heavy sigh as he turned the knob and opened his door. He would just have to be himself and see where that took him.  
  
For some reason, he now felt less angry with his father for sending him here. There obviously was a reason besides the one he had been given and that made him feel infinitely better but he couldn't help but wonder if Frank knew the truth. The thought depressed him more than his exile. If Frank had known and hadn't told him...Joe shook his head. No, he decided. Frank wouldn't betray me like that.  
  
Laura looked out the front window for the tenth time in twenty minutes and saw what she had grown to expect to see...nothing. She glanced at her watch again then stalked over to the chair where Agent Blaine sat watching her. "They're over three hours late and haven't called," she declared. "Do something!"  
  
"I'll call Chief Collig," Blaine replied.  
  
"Can we go and look for them?" begged Laura.  
  
"No, ma'am," was the reply. "Relax. If they are out there, they will be found."  
  
Biting her tongue to keep from yelling at him, she gave him a look that would turn milk to cheese before turning on her heel. "I'm going to go make a pie," she declared.   
  
"A pie?" a startled Blaine inquired.  
  
"I cook when I'm worried," she replied.  
  
Agent Blaine watched her leave the room. "Those Hardys must eat very well," he murmured with a shake of his head. He could only guess how often the lone woman had to worry over her three men.  
  
Laura pushed the kitchen door open and stepped inside. She took two steps toward the counter but was jerked back as a hand clamped over her mouth and she was pulled back into a hard body that had been positioned behind the kitchen door.  
  
"Not a sound," Hartley whispered in her ear as he pushed a gun into her side. 


	32. Chapter 32

Hartley began pulling Laura toward the door that led outside, confidant the frightened woman would cooperate with him.  
  
Startled by the sudden assault, Laura involuntarily let Hartley drag her as far as the end of the kitchen table before she managed to collect her wits. She lifted her right leg and brought the heel of her shoe down as hard as she could on his toes at the same time she grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the gun. She applied pressure to the center; a point Frank had taught her would cause severe pain if applied correctly.  
  
With a soft cry, Hartley dropped his weapon as Laura brought her left elbow back and up, striking Hartley just beneath his rib cage. He released her as he emitted a loud grunt of pain. "Help!!!!" screamed Laura bending and snatching up Hartley's gun. She spun around and aimed it at him, her finger on the trigger when Blaine burst through the connecting door with his own gun at the ready.   
  
Agent Blaine took in Laura's stance and the intruder on his knees gasping and a smile of admiration crept over his face. "Exactly, who yelled for help?" he asked, moving forward to relieve Laura of the gun as Hartley looked up at him with a scowl on his face. "Any more of them?" Blaine asked.  
  
"I don't know," Laura answered.  
  
"Here," Blaine removed his cell phone and handed it to her. "Call Collig while I read Bozo his rights."  
  
"You don't want to do that," declared Hartley, looking up into Laura's hard blue eyes.  
  
"Believe me," she assured him. "I do."  
  
"Then you're killing your husband and son," Hartley told her. Laura couldn't tell if he was bluffing or not.  
  
"Explain," she commanded.  
  
"It doesn't..." began the agent but shut up when Laura turned a frosty glare on him. For a little thing, she could be extremely intimidating.  
  
"If I'm not back in another hour then my men have orders to kill them," Hartley stated.  
  
"If you kill them then you won't get anything from them," Laura stated reasonably. "Sorry. Not buying it," she told him and started to punch in the police station's number.  
  
"That would be the easy way," Hartley told her with a sly grin. "They die and Joe comes home for the funeral and then we have him."  
  
"What do you want?" demanded Laura, her fingers trembling slightly as they paused over the cell phone.  
  
"You," Hartley stated. "But I can see that's out of the question so I'll settle for leaving. Alone."  
  
"Forget it," Blaine told him firmly.  
  
"Let him go," Laura ordered.  
  
"What?" snapped Blaine, turning his gaze on her. "Are you crazy?"  
  
"I will not risk Fenton's and Frank's lives," Laura stated calmly, not looking away from Hartley. "But I warn you, if you or your men do kill either of them then it won't be Joe or the police you have to worry about."  
  
Hartley swallowed a bit nervously. Laura's tone was rational and she held herself in a stance that reminded him of a predator as it cornered its prey. "Understood," he commented.   
  
"Laura, I can't..." Blaine started but closed his mouth and pressed his lips together when he saw Lara's eyes harden even more. He removed the cuffs that he had only just put on.  
  
"You'll never find out where Joe is," Laura told Hartley before he left. "Fenton, Frank, and I would die before we tell you," she continued. "But if any of my family does die; so too will you."  
  
Hartley left the house at the corner of High and Elm streets as fast as he could. The only other person who had ever managed to instill him with such dread had been his own mother when she had caught him smoking a joint in the garage. He had been a terrified ten-year-old then but now, he was just as afraid.  
  
"Well, what did you find out?" demanded Ken as he, Steve and Jeff entered the room a little later.  
  
Joe scowled. He felt like he was betraying a confidence by telling but then, no one had actually confided in him. "You aren't going to like it," he warned them as they sat down. "It's no wonder everyone's so strict here. It's like an unofficial training camp."  
  
"You will have to explain that one," Jeff told him with a perplexed expression on his face.  
  
And Joe did so. He told them the school's missive and gave the backgrounds of the teachers he had looked up. "And all that means we are here to be trained to be some sort of government agents."  
  
Jeff nodded. "That explains a lot," he said thoughtfully. "Those of us who aren't related to someone already associated with the government have proven ourselves to be intelligent, creative and good in combat."  
  
"But I don't want to work for the government," Steve protested with an angry scowl. "I want to be an engineer."  
  
"Sounds like your dad has other plans," Jeff commented. "But why am I here?" he asked, looking at Joe.  
  
"You've got the ability," Joe said with a shrug of his shoulders. "I've met government agents I wouldn't turn my back on. No offense," he added with a smile.  
  
"None taken," Jeff returned with a grin of his own.  
  
"So what are we going to do?" asked Ken.  
  
"That's up to you," responded Joe. "My dad sent me here, so he said, to learn some discipline and restraint but I happen to like what he considers my faults. I trust my instincts and judgment. I am not going to play along and I am not going to go out of my way to get kicked out. I am going to do nothing that I wouldn't do if I had never been sent here."  
  
"So you aren't going to do Scottsdale's essay?" Steve inquired.  
  
"No," Joe replied with a firm shake of his head. "The class had not started and the question was not related to the subject matter. Unless Scottsdale can give me a plausible reason to do the essay then it won't get done."  
  
"You would do that at a public school?" Ken demanded incredulously.  
  
"Just because someone has the authority to issue the command doesn't make it right," Joe replied. "You may have to do whatever you are told without question in the military but I didn't sign up for a tour of duty."  
  
"You'll get kicked out," Jeff warned him.  
  
"Que sera, sera," Joe returned with another shrug. 


	33. Chapter 33

"Where is he?" demanded a heavy-set man in his forties pushing his nose into Fenton's.  
  
Fenton stared into the man's beady green eyes and remained quiet. He tried to hold his breath so he wouldn't have to smell the malignant odors emanating from his captor's mouth. The cross of sardines and garlic made a formidable enemy to his senses and he tried very hard not to retch.  
  
"We've been lenient so far," the man continued. "But our patience is at an end." He stepped away from Fenton and went to the door of the room and opened it.  
  
A tall man with unruly red hair and too many freckles entered the room pulling Frank behind him and the man who had taken Frank captive to begin with brought up the rear.  
  
"This is how it is going to be," Stency said to Fenton. "I realize no man would trade one son for another so I'm not asking you too." He paused and turned to grin at Frank. "But are you willing to lose your parents in order to keep your brother's whereabouts a secret?"  
  
Frank's heart stopped. Parents?  
  
"He's not going to tell you anything," declared Fenton. "My life won't be traded for my son's either."  
  
"But what about your wife?" Stency asked with an evil smile. "Will your son watch you and his mother die a slow, painful death?"  
  
"You don't have her," Frank stated.  
  
"Not here, no," Stency admitted. "But she will be joining us within the next few minutes."  
  
"You seem pretty sure of yourself," observed Fenton trying to maintain a calm demeanor.  
  
"Oh, I am," replied Stency. "See, we have our orders. Our boss went to fetch her and if he's not back by six, that's less than ten minutes from now, then you are both to die."  
  
"But that would take away any chance you have of finding out where Joe is," Fenton countered with a smirk.  
  
"I think not," Stency stated with a smugness that sent shivers down Fenton's spine.  
  
"How do you figure that?" demanded Frank.  
  
"Joe won't miss his dad's funeral," Stency said. "Or his brother's. Or..." he paused and smiled thinly as the door opened and his immediate boss entered. "His mother's."  
  
"Where is she?" Stency demanded when Hartley entered without Laura in tow.  
  
"I couldn't get her," Hartley answered. "Have they talked yet?"  
  
"No," Stency replied. "I don't think they will unless we get the woman."  
  
"Change of plans," Hartley declared smiling like a Cheshire cat. "She had a guard."  
  
"And you couldn't handle him?" Stency demanded in disbelief.  
  
"Why bother?" Hartley countered, unwilling to admit it had been Mrs. Hardy he couldn't handle. "I left a little package under the back porch. If we don't find out where Joe is by midnight the house will be nothing but rubble."  
  
Fenton set his lips in a thin line but otherwise showed no evidence that the news had affected him. Frank, however, had gone deathly pale and he looked fearfully at his father.  
  
"Ah, I see you don't want your dear, sweet mother to die," Stency said, walking over to face Frank. "Tell us where Joe is and you will be released to diffuse the bomb."  
  
"You're lying," snarled Fenton. "You haven't even bothered to disguise yourselves. We're dead either way."  
  
"Are you willing to risk your mother's life on that assumption?" Stency asked Frank with a raised eyebrow.  
  
Frank drew himself up straight and stared Stency in the eyes. "What risk?" he asked calmly. "It's a sure thing."  
  
"Well, then," Stency said with a smirk. "We'll just wait and see how long you plan on holding out."  
  
"It's pointless, you know," Hartley put in. "Why kill such a pretty woman? We're going to have Joe one way or the other. Either we go get him or he comes home for his family's funerals."  
  
Neither Fenton nor Frank responded. Growling in frustration Hartley stomped from the room.  
  
"Hartley, you've got a call," Mike Dollar said, rapping on Jeff's and Joe's open door later that evening. "Your dad."  
  
"You've got to go all the way to the Dean's office to get it?" asked Joe as Jeff laid his book down and stood up.  
  
"Just to the ground floor," Jeff answered. "There's a phone in the office of each building for security measures."  
  
"Hi, Son," Hartley greeted Jeff when he picked up the phone. "How's it going?"  
  
"It's going," Jeff replied. "What's wrong?"  
  
"What makes you think something's wrong?" his old man asked.  
  
"Because the only time you ever call me during the week is when you're frustrated and need a sounding board," Jeff answered.  
  
"It's the Hardys," Hartley said.  
  
"Dad, I really don't..." Jeff started to object but his dad continued on as if Jeff hadn't spoken.  
  
"McFadden said to find Joe Hardy and bring him back or I would be taking his place," Hartley informed Jeff. "I know he's been sent to a boarding school; I just don't know which one. Geez!" he continued and Jeff could hear the fear mixed with exasperation in his father's voice. "I don't suppose he's at your school?" 


	34. Chapter 34

It was almost curfew when Jeff returned to the room. "Wow!" Joe commented as he entered. "I don't even talk to my brother that long on the phone."  
  
"I went for a walk after we hung up," Jeff said, frowning as he sat down on his bed. He took a deep breath then looked Joe in the eyes.  
  
"What's wrong?" inquired Joe, his own forehead creasing in concern.  
  
"I..." Jeff began but then stopped and closed his mouth. He gave Joe a wan smile and shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "We had better get ready for bed."  
  
Joe sat quietly after Jeff headed for the bathroom. There was definitely something wrong but if Jeff didn't want to discuss it that was his prerogative. With a heavy sigh, Joe stood up and began putting his books away.  
  
"Maybe I should have gone with him," Laura fretted as the night dragged on.  
  
Agent Blaine gave her a concerned look. "That would have been a big mistake," he told her. "If they don't have you then Fenton and Frank can concentrate on escaping."  
  
"I suppose," Laura admitted. "You know, that man could have been lurking around for some time," she added thoughtfully.  
  
"It's possible," Blaine acknowledged with a nod, wondering what she was getting at.  
  
"Maybe you should look around," she suggested.  
  
"For what?" he asked.  
  
"I don't know," Laura answered. "Bugs. Bombs," she added a bit more softly, remembering how close she had come to losing Frank by one barely forty-eight hours previously.  
  
"Why would he have planted a bomb?" Blaine asked reasonably. "He was going to take you with him."  
  
"In case something went wrong," suggested Laura with a shrug. "I don't know but I just..." she paused, not wanting to sound like a lunatic but knowing how adamant Fenton was about following one's instincts. "I just have a bad feeling," Laura finally confessed.  
  
"All right," Blaine finally agreed, knowing better than to make light of her intuition. Like Fenton, he had also been trained to follow his gut.  
  
Agent Blaine looked through the house first, not really expecting to find anything. He knew if it were him, he would have done something outside. Somewhere where there was less chance of getting caught and somewhere close to where he had been hiding. Once he had finished his search inside, he exited the house. Hartley had been hiding in the kitchen so odds were if there were something to be found it would be at the back of the house.  
  
A few minutes after he started looking he found something. He saw a man's tread near the back porch. The footsteps did go to the window and back door but there was an area of grass matted down near the base of the porch. Blaine stooped down for a look-see and let out a low whistle. He quickly checked his watch then pulled out his cell phone and called Chief Collig and then his boss. Hanging up, he returned inside the house.  
  
"You found something," Laura said, seeing the grim look on the agent's face.  
  
"You were right," Blaine informed her. "There's a bomb set to go off at midnight beneath the back porch. A bomb squad is already on the way," he continued. "But we need to leave the premises now."  
  
Laura nodded and followed the agent from the house as Chief Collig arrived in his police cruiser. "Laura, you can sit in my car while we wait," Ezra offered.  
  
"Thank you," Laura acknowledged the subtle command politely. She climbed in as Agent Blaine told the chief about the intruder earlier.  
  
Collig shot a glance at Laura and rolled his eyes. "At least we know where Joe gets it," he said to Blaine with a chuckle.  
  
Two hours later the bomb had been diffused and removed from the premises. An extensive search of the area revealed no more danger and Laura and her bodyguard were allowed back inside.  
  
"It's almost midnight," Stency said, smirking at Fenton. "Are you going to tell us or are you going to let your wife die? It's not too late to call and get her out of the house."  
  
"I will not trade the life of one member of my family for another," Fenton rasped.  
  
"And here I thought you loved your wife," Stency said mockingly with a shake of his head.  
  
Hartley entered the room whistling. "What are you so happy about?" demanded Stency. "He still refuses to talk and I don't think the kid knows."  
  
Hartley shrugged. "He wouldn't talk even if he knew," he informed Stency. "I've been snooping. He and his brother are too close. Neither one of them would ever do anything to jeopardize the other one."  
  
"So you want we should keep Frankie boy as hostage?" Stency asked.  
  
"No need," Hartley replied, waving off the idea. "I already know where Joe Hardy is."  
  
"Sure you do," Fenton stated with heavy sarcasm.  
  
"Cadeva Boarding School," Hartley said, watching in delight as Fenton turned ashen. 


	35. Chapter 35

Joe arrived at Scottsdale's class early for the second day in a row. He entered the room and took a seat, setting his textbook and notebook on the top of his desk.  
  
"Bring me your essay," Scottsdale ordered, looking at Joe expectantly.  
  
"I didn't do it," Joe stated calmly, meeting his teacher's eyes.  
  
Scottsdale's eyes narrowed; not in outrage or disbelief but in curiosity. "And why, may I ask, not?" he inquired, his tone matching Joe's.  
  
"It wasn't required," Joe answered promptly.  
  
"I assigned it," Scottsdale pointed out.  
  
"Before class and only to me," returned Joe. "Ergo, it was not a legitimate assignment."  
  
"And do you have your legitimate assignment completed?" Scottsdale inquired.  
  
Joe nodded and bit his tongue to keep from telling him that he would find out when he collected the assignments.  
  
"I will be frank, Mr. Hardy," Scottsdale said. "I dislike belligerence."  
  
"I'm not being belligerent," Joe objected. "I simply refuse to obey someone who has no right to order me around," he explained. "And outside of class you have no authority over me."  
  
"Point taken, Mr. Hardy," Scottsdale said as other students began pouring into the classroom.  
  
"Joe, I'm sorry," Jeff said, sitting down next to Joe at lunch. "I should have told you last night but we had agreed not to talk about our families."  
  
"Told me what?" Joe asked curiously.  
  
"My dad told me he was holding your dad and brother hostage until he found out where you were," Jeff told him.  
  
"Did you tell him I was your roommate?" asked Joe.  
  
"No way!" denied Jeff. "If your family wants him to know they can tell him. I just couldn't keep this from you."  
  
"I wonder why mom never called me?" Joe commented.  
  
"She couldn't," Jeff said. "It's in the handbook. No contact with the outside for two weeks," he explained. "It's supposed to be an adjustment period."  
  
"What are you going to do?" Jeff asked after five minutes of silence where both boys sat picking at their food.  
  
"I'm going home," Joe stated as if there hadn't been any doubt. "I just have to figure out the best way to leave without anyone noticing too soon."  
  
"After your last class for sure," Jeff said, then paused. "I am sorry," he repeated.  
  
"It's okay," Joe assured him. "We did make the agreement but I sure am glad you decided to break it. What I don't understand is why your dad told you. I mean, doesn't he understand that makes you an accessory?"  
  
"I told you. My dad wants me to join up with him," Jeff reminded Joe sadly.  
  
"Oh, man, I'm sorry." Joe had never felt sorrier for anyone. Even his dad had discouraged him from being a detective in the beginning and it wasn't illegal. He could well remember his father telling him about the boredom of stakeouts; the endless paperwork; the bureaucratic red tape and having to deceive your own family for their own protection. And sending me here was one of those deceptions!' Joe realized.  
  
Frank opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't. Last night after Hartley had dropped his bombshell, Frank and his father had been released from their positions against the wall. Frank, like his father, had put up a fight but when something heavy had connected with the back of his head, Frank had lost consciousness.  
  
Fighting the pain in his head that he now felt, Frank looked around the room he was in. He was relieved to see his dad conscious and already working feverishly on the ropes that bound him.  
  
"Dad!" Frank said, capturing his father's attention.  
  
Fenton stopped and looked over at his eldest son with a measure of relief. "How bad is it?" Fenton asked, aware Frank was in pain.  
  
"Not so bad I can't help get us out of here," Frank replied with a wan smile. "Can you scoot over? I can work on your ropes with my fingers."  
  
"We need to hurry," Fenton said. "This building is scheduled to be demolished at noon."  
  
"What time is it?" asked Frank as his dad's hands bumped into his own.  
  
"I don't know," replied Fenton. "But it was after eleven when Hartley and his cohorts left us here." As he finished his sentence a crash was heard followed by a rumbling as dirt fell down on their heads through cracks in the ceiling.  
  
"Faster!" hissed Fenton.  
  
Frank worked furiously on his father's ropes, feeling them loosen as another crash resounded from above. Part of the ceiling caved in and a beam fell on Frank, knocking him over. He closed his eyes as debris tumbled down on him. 


	36. Chapter 36

Frank fought to open his eyes as strong hands grabbed him and pulled him into a fireman's carry. Fenton navigated the rubble and struggled through the half-buried door. He prayed the stairs would support them as he carried his son up the short flight. Fenton stumbled once and almost dropped Frank but managed to retain his balance and hold on by ramming his left knee into a beam for support. Three minutes later, Fenton deposited his eldest son on the sidewalk outside amid cries of amazement and horror.  
  
Fenton sank to the ground breathing heavy and groaning as his knee began to radiate pain from the beating it had taken inside the building. When the demolition manager arrived, Frank was conscious and free. Several men milled around anxiously as others attempted to keep both Hardys down until an ambulance could arrive.  
  
"I need to talk to the police," Fenton told the manager.  
  
"Of course," the man agreed at once. He handed Fenton his cell phone, wondering how much trouble he and his men were headed for.  
  
"Chief," Fenton said when he was put through. "They know where Joe is. Alert the school now."  
  
Fenton returned the cell back to the manager when he had finished. "Thank you," he said.  
  
"Uh..." the manager looked confused.  
  
Fenton gave the man a wan smile. "I'm sorry," he said. "My son and I were kidnapped and placed in the basement of this building barely an hour ago. You, nor your men, have any responsibility for our being inside when you began the demolition."  
  
"Thank you," the manager said a bit relieved. "But you and your son...?"  
  
"We'll be fine," Fenton assured him. "Although, I do think Frank should be examined at the hospital. He has had a couple of hard knocks in the past twenty-four hours."  
  
"And so should you," the manager said, frowning. "Your leg is bleeding and it's obvious you have been hit in several places," he added, seeing multiple bruises on Fenton's face and arms.  
  
"Perhaps you are right," agreed Fenton. He did, after all, need a lift to the hospital where he knew Laura would meet them. Chief Collig would definitely let her know. "Could I borrow your phone one more time?" he asked, planning on leaving Laura at the hospital with Frank while he took care of Joe.  
  
Fenton took the phone and called Jack Wayne He had just finished making arrangements when the ambulance arrived. Returning the cell phone, Fenton waited for Frank to be checked and carried to the ambulance before he was ushered inside.  
  
Joe made it through his next class with difficulty. His lack of interest had been noticed and he had been given extra assignments as punishment. At least in gym, he could take his frustration out in exercise he thought, heading for the gym.  
  
He entered the gym with his escape plan for afterwards complete in his mind. Once this class was over he would have at least four hours before he had to worry about being missed. If he ran as fast as he could then he could clear the campus and hitch a ride to the airport without being observed. There, he would have to use a payphone and call in for a ticket to Bayport using the credit card his dad had given him and Frank for emergencies. It was fortunate he had memorized the number, the expiration, and the three-digit number on the card's reverse.  
  
"Line up!" barked Baldwin. Joe took his place next to Gordon Robbins, a sixteen year old with blond hair and hazel eyes. Joe stared straight ahead, feeling like he should be wearing a soldier's uniform instead of the short sweats he had been given.  
  
Baldwin put them through their daily drill of exercise and laps then marched them outside to run the obstacle course. Joe had his time down to five minutes; a full minute better than anyone else, but Baldwin singled Joe out for an extra series of runs after class.  
  
"Why?" Joe demanded after the other students had departed. "My time was better than the others were. I can do this obstacle course in my sleep."  
  
"Indeed," agreed Baldwin. "You do seem to have no problem and that is why I think you should be placed in an advanced class. I want to see how long it will take you on the advanced course."  
  
Joe sighed. He hated having to delay his departure but unless he wanted to make Baldwin suspicious he had no choice. "Fine," he agreed reluctantly. "Where is it?"  
  
"Follow me," Baldwin instructed and led the way. Joe followed his teacher off the field and across campus.  
  
"Why is it so far away from the gym and the other field?" asked Joe.  
  
"We don't want to discourage the students who aren't as athletically inclined as you and the others chosen to participate in the advanced course," Baldwin replied.  
  
Baldwin led Joe through the fence and into the woods behind the school.  
  
"I didn't know the school owned this area too," Joe commented, his steps slowing. Something wasn't right.  
  
Baldwin looked back. "Keep up," he ordered.  
  
"I think I'll pass," Joe said, backing up. "I really don't want advanced gym anyway."  
  
"What you want doesn't matter," Joe was informed. "Now come along."  
  
"No," Joe refused. "We aren't even on school property any more."  
  
"Of course we are," Baldwin snapped. "This land was purchased recently and hasn't had time to be developed and fenced in."  
  
"I'll ask the Dean first if it's all the same to you," Joe said, not believing him. All of his instincts were screaming at him to return to school grounds. "See you tomorrow." Joe turned and started running but stopped when a gun was fired and the tree in front of him bounced bark.  
  
"You will come or you will die," Baldwin informed Joe in a cold voice.  
  
"Who are you?" Joe demanded, turning to glare at his teacher.  
  
"Coach Baldwin," he answered.  
  
"Yeah, but not working for our government, at least, not legitimately," Joe stated.  
  
"So you have discovered the truth about the academy," Baldwin stated. "It doesn't matter," he continued. "As you said, I do not answer to your government."  
  
"Why do you want me?" Joe inquired.  
  
"I was ordered to watch you and take you when you had been trained," Baldwin answered. "So I got a job as the gym teacher. However, my orders have been changed. If you remain here, you will die so you must accompany me."  
  
"Why would I die?" asked Joe.  
  
"Because I informed McFadden, via Hartley, where you could be found," Baldwin answered.  
  
"But why?" Joe demanded in confusion. "If you didn't want me until I had been trained?"  
  
"Taking you now will save many questions. McFadden's men are on their way to kill you as we speak," Baldwin replied with patience. "You will come with us and it will be made to look like McFadden's men succeeded in taking you. Sadly, they will have a major accident and their plane will crash, killing everyone on board. The wreckage will be so miniscule there will be no trace of survivors except, perhaps, scattered bones over a twenty-mile radius."  
  
"But why? What do you want with me?" Joe asked again.  
  
"You will find out soon enough," Baldwin informed him. "Now move," he was ordered. "If I can't take you alive I have orders to leave you dead."  
  
His face set in a scowl, Joe did as he was ordered, preceding Baldwin further into the woods. Half an hour later, they arrived at a dirt road where a van was waiting. Joe was secured in the rear under armed guard and Baldwin returned to the school.  
  
Fenton parked the car in the lot at Bayport's Airport and hurried to the hangar that Jack Wayne used. "Ready?" he demanded.  
  
"You got a call," Jack told him, his blue eyes troubled. "Chief Collig said for you to call him as soon as you got here."  
  
"Great," moaned Fenton. He had been forced to have his leg x-rayed at the hospital before he was released. He should never have gone to the hospital in the ambulance but he had realized that too late. Doing so had convinced Laura he was seriously injured and since Joe was in a training school for government fieldwork she, nor Frank, believed Joe was in immediate danger. Fenton, although knowing there was no way McFadden's men could get at Joe during classes, knew that after his final class was over he would be less protected.  
  
Fenton checked his watch as he waited for the Chief to come online. Joe's last class would have ended almost an hour and a half ago. Sure, the chief had called to warn the school but even so, could they protect Joe from Hartley and his cohorts?  
  
"Fenton, I need you to come to the station," Collig said when he answered. "I'm on my way to Virginia," objected Fenton. "Joe..."  
  
"Isn't there," Collig ended for him. "His gym teacher said three men arrived while he was putting Joe through laps and took him away. Baldwin, the gym teacher, was hurt pretty bad. He was taken to the local hospital."  
  
"Then they will be bringing Joe back to Bayport," Fenton said. "Can you set up roadblocks and cover the stations and airport?" he asked.  
  
"Fenton, please come to the station," Collig begged, his tone conveying a terrible urgency.  
  
"Just tell me, Ezra," Fenton said, gripping the receiver in dreaded anticipation.  
  
"Hartley, Stency, Joe and another of McFadden's men, Feldbert, were seen boarding a plane shortly after Joe was taken," Ezra informed him in a hushed tone. "It exploded about ten minutes after take off." 


	37. Chapter 37

"No!" gasped Fenton, falling against the wall for support. "There...there has to be some mistake."  
  
"Fenton, several thousand people witnessed the explosion and it appeared on radar," Ezra told him in a gentle voice. "I'm so sorry."  
  
"I don't believe it," Fenton said. "There is no way McFadden's men could have gotten onto school grounds."  
  
"Fenton..." Collig tried to interrupt but by now Fenton was thinking out loud and not paying attention.  
  
"So either they didn't get Joe or someone at the school helped them," Fenton stated grimly. "Ezra, do me a favor?"  
  
"Of course," Collig agreed at once.  
  
"Don't let Laura or Frank know about Joe just yet?" Fenton requested. "I'm going down there to find out what's going on. I'm not coming back until I find out exactly what happened."  
  
"I'll keep it quiet for now," the chief promised. "But if the media already has a hold of this information then Laura and Frank are bound to find out."  
  
"If they do then you can tell them I went to Virginia to get the truth," Fenton replied. "Laura will understand."  
  
"Frank?"  
  
"Won't," Fenton stated. "But he's in no condition to go with me." Fenton thanked Ezra for his cooperation and hung the phone up. He held his hands up and looked at them, unsurprised to find they were trembling. Dropping them to his side, he stood up straight, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He couldn't let his emotions rule him; he wouldn't! He had to stay in control and focused if he was going to find out what really happened to his son. If by some miracle he were still alive, Fenton would bring him home. Forget the top-secret investigation the Department of Defense requested, he thought. If Joe is still alive I will never send him away again for any reason!' he vowed. And if not...  
  
Fenton swallowed and blinked to keep his tears at bay. If Joe were dead then the men responsible would pay. If Joe had been taken from the boarding school then someone on the inside had to be a traitor and that person was about to wish he had never been born.  
  
Fenton made his way back to the plane where Jack stood watching Fenton approach. "Everything okay?" asked Jack. He had never seen Fenton so shaken.  
  
"No," Fenton answered. "Collig..." he paused and swallowed. "Collig has reason to believe Joe is dead."  
  
"But you don't?" Jack asked, quirking a dark eyebrow, even as his face creased in concern.  
  
"I...I don't know," Fenton admitted in a breaking voice. "But I intend to find out. Are we ready to go?"  
  
"Yes, Sir," replied Jack. "Climb aboard."  
  
"Jack, I need a favor," requested Fenton once they were airborne.  
  
"Name it," Jack replied. Not only did he work for Fenton but he was a good friend to him and his sons.  
  
Fenton told Jack what the chief had told him about the explosion of the plane Joe was seen boarding. "I want you to find out what you can," Fenton requested. "I want to know who saw Joe get on the plane, where the plane was when it exploded, if the black box has been recovered; everything you can find out."  
  
"I'll do my best," promised Jack.  
  
After landing, Fenton rented a car and drove to the school. After identifying himself at the front gate he drove to the main building and made his way to the dean's office. "Fenton," Dean Stewart greeted him at the door to his office. "I'm sorry this happened."  
  
"Why did it happen is what I want to know," snapped Fenton, his eyes burning. "Someone here told Hartley that Joe was here and someone had to help him and his cronies get on campus."  
  
The dean swallowed then gave a little cough to clear his throat. "Come into my office," he said finally. "I want you to meet Joe's roommate."  
  
When Fenton entered the dean's inner sanctum he stared at the youth who leapt to his feet nervously. There was something very familiar about the boy but it wasn't until he managed to look him in the eyes that he could put his finger on it. "Hartley!" snarled Fenton, his hands bunching into fists as he took a step closer to the lad.  
  
"Easy, Fenton," Stewart said, latching on to Fenton's upper arm and stopping his forward motion.  
  
Fenton turned on him. "You had Joe rooming with Hartley's son!" he thundered. "Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"Because until this morning we had no idea that Jeff's father was after Joe," Stewart replied. "And after we were informed we saw no reason to alter the arrangement."  
  
"You saw no... WHY NOT?"  
  
"Because Joe and I talked this out his first night here," Jeff answered for the dean, his eyes bloodshot from crying. The dean had told him about his father and Joe less than an hour ago. "He knew all about me and I about him. We agreed to keep out lives separate from our families while we were here."  
  
"But you changed your mind," Fenton accused him, disgust evident in his voice. "You told your father about Joe."  
  
"Not quite," Jeff denied with a shake of his head. "I did change my mind but only because I like...liked and respected Joe. My dad called and told me he had taken you and Frank hostage," he explained. "He mentioned how desperately he needed to find Joe. I never told him. Instead, after thinking it over, I told Joe, today at lunch, about you and Frank. Joe was going to run away after his last class and return to Bayport to rescue you."  
  
"But instead, your father showed up here and attacked the gym teacher and took Joe," Fenton ended, running a hand wearily through his hair.  
  
"No," Jeff denied. "My dad called me when he got into town. I was on the phone with him when Baldwin said he was attacked."  
  
"Baldwin never reached the hospital," Dean Stewart took up the tale. "The ambulance was ambushed and both medics were killed. Baldwin has vanished."  
  
"Don't you investigate your men?" demanded Fenton in disbelief.  
  
"We do," Stewart stated calmly. "Baldwin's record was exemplarily. Too exemplarily," he added ruefully. "He was a sleeper," he explained. "He was planted here to be called into service when needed."  
  
"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" asked Fenton.  
  
"Jeff," the dean turned to the boy. "Would you please excuse us? Talk to Mr. Goodman. He will make the arrangements for you to return to your mother for a couple of weeks."  
  
"Yes, Sir," Jeff said. The dean waited for the door to close firmly behind the youth before answering Fenton's question.  
  
"Joe isn't dead. He's been taken hostage by the enemy." 


	38. Chapter 38

"Where are we going?" asked Joe after they had been driving for almost two hours.  
  
"Silence!" he was ordered.  
  
"I just..." he fell silent as his arm was pricked. He reached for it as a syringe was pulled away. Before Joe could say anymore his eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out.  
  
When Joe awoke he was on a small plane. But he never had time to get his bearings because he felt another prick and once again, he was sound asleep.  
  
The next time Joe awoke he found himself in a sitting position with his wrists fastened to his chair with thick metal cuffs. His ankles were shackled to the bottom of the heavy chair and he found himself unable to move even his shoulders. He looked down in surprise. Wide leather straps held him securely in place.  
  
Who do they think I am? Joe wondered. Superman? I doubt even he could break all this hardware.' He tried to move his wrist back, just a little, but the effort was met with a burning sensation followed by a sticky feeling. He winced in pain and knew the liquid that slid beneath his wrist was his own blood.  
  
Joe looked around his prison. It wasn't at all what he would have expected. No basement or barren room was this! In front of him was a large mirror, two-way no doubt, and in the front of the mirror was a lab table and against each wall that he could see were more lab tables.  
  
One table held test tubes and a Bunsen burner; items his and Frank's lab above their garage at home held. But the table to his left held books and photo albums; tape players and a projector. The table in front of the mirror held personal care items like brushes and shampoo.  
  
The room behind him reflected in the mirror and he could make out a rolling cart with knives and a variety of surgical equipment adorning it.  
  
Joe shivered. Why had they kidnapped him? And who were they? Did they have something to do with the reason his father had sent him to boarding school in the first place? He hadn't been gagged. Maybe he would be allowed to ask questions or....A worse thought occurred to him. Maybe he was expected to answer questions. I can't tell them what I don't know, he thought in grim satisfaction.  
  
A door opened behind him and Joe sat silent as several sets of footsteps approached. "Begin." The order was followed by several men and a woman stepping into view and going to the lab tables.  
  
Joe watched a young man with a build matching his own go to the table with the photograph albums and sit down. "You have forty-eight hours to complete the transformation," stated the same male voice that had started the activity.  
  
Joe felt a hand ruffle his hair and he flinched away. "Joe?" the man said, resting a hand on Joe's shoulder.  
  
The boy who had begun rifling through the albums looked up and Joe gasped. There were slight differences but he and this stranger could have been twins.  
  
"Indeed," came the voice from behind Joe. "He does look a lot like you."  
  
"And that's why you chose him for this job?" Joe demanded.  
  
"Quiet," the man agreed and Joe could swear he detected a British accent. "The closer in appearance now, the harder it will be to distinguish later," he explained.  
  
"You will have to explain that one," Joe told him, wishing he couldn't see the speaker who stared into the mirror with cold black eyes.  
  
"I'm sure you shall figure it out eventually," Joe was told in a cheery voice. "Get to it boys and girls," the man ordered, turning away.  
  
Joe heard the man's receding footsteps and then a door shut as two men and the woman came over to him. The cuff on his left wrist was released and his hand turned palm side up. The cuff was replaced, leaving Joe in this uncomfortable position. He swallowed as his fingers were grasped tightly, allowing no movement. His thumb was forced straight and a cotton swab was rubbed over the length of it.  
  
"What are you doing?" Joe asked, fighting the fear growing in him as one of the men took a scalpel and placed it at the top crevice of his thumb.  
  
Ignoring Joe's question, the man let the scalpel pierced Joe's skin. As Joe let out a horrendous cry the scalpel sliced off the top layer of skin on Joe's thumb! 


	39. Chapter 39

After talking to Dean Stewart, Fenton flew to the nation's capitol and requested an audience with Arnold Priest, the secretary of defense.  
  
A man in his late forties with the stature and mannerisms of a veteran Marine, Arnold Priest was as contrary a man expected of his position, as a worm would be courting a blue jay. He was three inches taller than Fenton's own six-foot frame with balding black hair and sharp hazel eyes. He was a fine physical specimen with square shoulders and a square jaw that looked like it might have had more than its share of attention from an opponent's fist.   
  
"Fenton," Priest greeted him, rising from behind his desk as Fenton entered his spacious office. "You look troubled."  
  
Fenton gave him a wan smile. As formidable as Priest looked and appeared in the public eye, he was as caring and open with his friends as either of Fenton's own sons. "That's putting it mildly," Fenton stated, sinking into an overstuffed chair next to Priest's desk. "There has been a breech," he began. "There was a Sleeper at the boarding school where you had me send Joe. The spy is gone and so is my son."  
  
"Who?" Priest demanded.  
  
"Blake Baldwin," Fenton answered. "He taught gym."  
  
"I'll see what I can find out about him," Priest promised.  
  
"You can try," acknowledged Fenton. "But his setup was perfect. I doubt you will be able to find anything."  
  
Priest was puzzled by Fenton's defeatist attitude but one look into his eyes had him wondering what Fenton knew. "Okay, give," Priest ordered.  
  
"Baldwin was a tool," Fenton answered. "I think we should move ahead with the original plan."  
  
"But you wanted both your sons involved," Priest objected. His curiosity was growing by leaps and bounds but Fenton wasn't giving anything away.  
  
"They will be," continued Fenton. "Joe became involved when he was abducted and nothing and no one will be able to stop Frank once he finds out."  
  
"I believe someone mentioned your sons were very close," Priest stated.  
  
"More than I would like," confessed Fenton slowly. "It will kill Frank if we can't get Joe back."  
  
"I don't think Frank will be the only one," Priest observed in a soft voice. The guilt and pain Fenton felt was etched into his features.  
  
Fenton stood up. "Let Holden know we're starting immediately," he instructed Priest. "Going through with this is the only chance we have of getting Joe back." If it isn't too late, he added silently.  
  
"Good luck," Priest told Fenton, shaking his hand.  
  
It was late the next morning when Fenton arrived home. Frank had been released from the hospital and he hurried to the front door as he heard his father enter the house. "Where's Joe?" demanded Frank. "I thought you were going to get him. You didn't leave him there! McFadden is still loose."  
  
"McFadden is only out on bail," Fenton reminded his son. "And besides," he added in a weary voice. "He's the least of our worries." He looked at Frank's ankle. "You're walking?" he asked in surprise.  
  
"The swelling is gone," Frank answered. "Dr. Bates just told me to elevate it whenever I get the chance and try to avoid running for awhile."  
  
"Fenton, where's Joe?" demanded Laura as Fenton and Frank entered the living room where she had just arrived, having just finished putting a load of clothes in the washer.  
  
"And what about Hartley?" Frank added.  
  
"Hartley is dead," Fenton answered. "He and at least two of McFadden's other men were killed when their plane exploded. Jack asked around and got enough information to confirm that part of the report that Ezra received was true."  
  
"Hold up," Laura ordered. "What report? And where is my son?"  
  
Fenton told them about Ezra's report. "But Joe wasn't on the plane," he added quickly before Laura could faint. He put an arm around her waist and helped her to the sofa. "Joe was abducted from the school by one of the teachers."  
  
"Why?" snapped Frank, his brown eyes hard. He had been kept in the dark long enough.  
  
"A spy?" asked Laura, revealing she knew more than did Frank.  
  
"I'm afraid so," acknowledged Fenton.  
  
"How are you going to get him back?" Laura asked. She refused to entertain the notion that Joe might be dead.  
  
"Frank and I have to leave as soon as I can make the arrangements," Fenton told her. "I have no idea where they have taken him but going ahead with the investigation may lead us to him."  
  
"What investigation?" demanded Frank.  
  
"I'll tell you in my office," Fenton said. "There are some things in my safe that we will need. Laura, would you mind bringing us some sandwiches for lunch? This will take awhile."  
  
Frank followed his dad upstairs and into his office. Once there, he helped search for electronic listening devices at his father's request. Finding none, the two sat down. "Talk," ordered Frank.  
  
"There's a new group of terrorists known as The Scalawags," Fenton began.  
  
"Scalawags?"  
  
"They've been attacking not only our navy but also England's, France's and various other countries," Fenton explained. "They board, take what they want, including the soldiers, and then sink the ship. Some of the soldiers are killed while others are being sold into slave labor."  
  
"You're kidding, right?" Frank demanded in disbelief. "Slavery? Now?"  
  
"It does exist," confirmed his father. "Not legally of course, but there are auctions...private ones. One soldier, Private Millhouse, escaped from his owner and managed to get to a phone. He got through to the American Embassy in Thailand and got a brief message out. There were shots fired and Millhouse's connection was broken. He hasn't been heard from again."  
  
"You think they're going to sell Joe into slavery?" Frank demanded, his pupils small as his eyes widened in horror.  
  
"No, of course not," denied Fenton, avoiding looking Frank in the eyes because that was exactly what he, himself, feared. 


	40. Chapter 40

Fenton spent the next four hours going over the information he already possessed with Frank. When they were finished, Frank went to his room for a nap. Fenton made the necessary travel arrangements, informed Laura, and then went to take a nap as well. Once the two reached their destination they would have to be constantly alert.  
  
They arrived in Madagascar a little after seven. The time change had afforded them with extra time to begin their investigation before nightfall.  
  
Frank watched his dad walk down the aisle and exit the plane before rising slowly and stretching. They had donned disguises in the bathroom of the Bayport Airport and picked up their tickets in their new personas.  
  
Fenton was traveling as a vacationing businessman. His cover was vice president in charge of government contracts for Thurman Enterprises that dealt with the construction of parts used in making fighter planes.  
  
Frank's disguise was a bit more basic. He was dressed all in black with black lipstick and eyeliner. He sported a nose ring and three earrings on one of his ears. His hair was jet black and he wore it slicked back except for one small area near the front and there it had been spiked and tinged dark blue.  
  
He stepped into the aisle and swaggered to the exit, pausing in the open air to look at the scene around him. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he descended the steps and entered the airport. Over an hour later he hailed a taxi out front and climbed into the back seat with his luggage: a lone duffel bag that looked like it had seen better days.  
  
"Where to?" asked the driver in broken English.  
  
"Anywhere I can get a cheap room," Frank answered, looking out his window as the car took off.  
  
As he rode he thought about what his father had told him earlier. These modern day pirates attacked only certain ships so they had to have a way to find out what was on the ships' cargo list. The only common thread in the piracy was the location: up to fifty miles from the shores of the small seaside town he was currently in. Priest had feared someone at the American Embassy was involved.  
  
Not trusting anyone at the American Embassy, Priest had requested Fenton Hardy's help in infiltrating the embassy and locating the traitor. Fenton knew the job was bigger than just the one person in the embassy and suggested that rather than take out the one person would could and most likely, would, be replaced with someone else, that he be allowed to attempt to shut down the entire operation.  
  
It was after Fenton had learned what was being done with the booty taken by the pirates that he had requested his sons be allowed to help him. The only objection had come from Story Walsh, Priest's second in command. He had been concerned that the boys, Joe especially, were not mature enough to erect the self-discipline needed to maintain a convincing cover. Priest had solved the problem by recommending Joe attend the Cadeva Boarding School a place that had been established by the United States government to train selected individuals the fundamentals of intelligence work in such a subtle way that the students didn't even realize it. The rigorous curriculum, specialized instructors and intensive physical education the students endured was designed to increase stamina and train the boys to follow orders. Those who questioned their orders were divided into two camps: those who were merely rebellious and those who might become leaders in some select service.  
  
Frank gave a small grin, hidden by the thick mustache and bushy beard he wore. He knew Joe would fit into the latter group but he wondered how long it would have taken them to find it out. Knowing Joe, he had already realized he hadn't been in a normal boarding school. His grin vanished as his thoughts moved back to the problem at hand. They had to find Joe and the only way to do that was to infiltrate the organization.  
  
The cab came to a stop in front of a shabby two-story wooden house. "Tu-Lynn's," the cabbie announced. "Bed and breakfast cheap," he added.  
  
"Thanks," Frank said, opening the door. He stepped out and paid the driver; keeping in character and not giving him a tip. As the cab disappeared down the narrow street, Frank walked up to the front door and knocked.  
  
Frank did his best to control his surprise when the door opened. He had been expecting Tu-Lynn to open the door; a woman of small stature from the sound of her name, but instead a man with dark brown skin and curly black hair, two inches taller than himself, and at least thirty pounds heavier, stood there.  
  
"I'm looking for Tu-Lynn," Frank said, quickly hiding his surprise.  
  
"I'm Tu-Lynn," the man said. "What do you want?"  
  
"I need a room," stated Frank. "The cabbie said you had some available."  
  
Tu-Lynn looked Frank over, taking in the black boots and hot leather pants topped with a black tee shirt that had the sleeves and neck cut out. "Fifty a night and one meal," Tu-Lynn told him.  
  
Frank grimaced. "Got a cheaper one?" he asked. "I've only got a little on me until I find some work."  
  
"You come here to work?" Tu-Lynn demanded in disbelief.  
  
Frank shrugged. "I like to stay on the move," he said. "I work my way around."  
  
Tu- Lynn gave Frank another once over and then stepped aside to let him enter. "I have smaller room," he said. "Twenty-five a night and one meal," he added. "But maybe I help you get work."  
  
"Oh?" Frank asked, quirking an eyebrow.  
  
"My brother has ship," Tu-Lynn informed Frank. "Needs help."  
  
"What kind of help?" inquired Frank.  
  
Tu-Lynn shrugged. "You talk to him," he said. "I show you room." He led Frank into the living room where four men were sitting at a card table playing Poker.  
  
Frank's eyes hardened involuntarily as he spotted a man fitting the description his dad had given him of Joe's former gym teacher. "Boarders," Tu-Lynn announced. "That's Shin-Lo; Ben; Yen-to; and John," he introduced the four men.  
  
John? I wonder if that is Baldwin's real first name or another pseudonym, Frank wondered silently.  
  
"Who are you?" Baldwin asked.  
  
"Tim," Frank answered. His passport read Timothy Aaron Holt but he wasn't going to give his full name because he hadn't been given theirs.  
  
"Come," Tu-Lynn urged Frank. Frank followed his host out of the living room and through the kitchen into a small room containing a bed and nightstand. He held out his hand, palm side up.  
  
Frank reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wad of cash. He peeled off two tens and a five and handed it to Tu-Lynn who scowled at him and threw it back at him. "No! No!" he declared loudly. "You change. Bank near dock where you talk to Tu-Mey. Pay me tomorrow."  
  
Frank nodded and put the cash back in his pocket. He had thought about having it changed out at the airport but had vetoed the idea deciding it would be more in keeping with character to be a bit thoughtless on that count. Tu-Lynn left the room as Baldwin entered the kitchen. Frank watched with well-concealed frustration as Baldwin left the boarding house.  
  
Frank closed the door to his room, angry because Baldwin knew where Joe was and probably on his way to him but he couldn't follow. Going after Baldwin would blow his cover and he couldn't do that just yet.  
  
Frank tossed his meager belongings into the bottom drawer of the nightstand and then lay down on the bed.  
  
Contact, it seemed, was going to be much easier than they had anticipated. He fell asleep thinking about how lucky he was to have landed at the same boarding house as Baldwin. 


	41. Chapter 41

When Frank entered the kitchen the next morning for his one and only free meal of the day the other four boarders were already seated at the table along with another man who favored Tu-Lynn.  
  
"Tim?" the man asked, quirking an eyebrow at Frank. Frank dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I'm Tu-Mey," he introduced himself in perfect English. "My brother informs me you are looking for work?"  
  
"That's right," acknowledged Frank.  
  
"I've been looking for a few more men for my operation and you look like you just might fit in," Tu-Mey said. "What kind of experience do you have?"  
  
Frank gave a small shrug. "A little bit of everything," he answered. "I've done everything from take out the trash to install security systems."  
  
"That's a bit diverse," Tu-Mey commented. Frank shrugged but did not reply. "Why did you come to Madagascar if you didn't have the money?"  
  
Frank gave a small smirk. "I didn't really have much of a choice," he stated without elaborating.  
  
"Do you have the required paperwork to work in this country?" Tu-Mey asked.  
  
"No," Frank answered with a scowl.  
  
"I can arrange for you to obtain it," Tu-Mey offered.  
  
"No," Frank snapped hastily. "Don't worry about it and thanks for the offer but I'll find work somewhere else."  
  
"No need," Tu-Mey assured him. "You really don't have to have papers to work for me. I pay in American dollars," he continued. "No paperwork involved."  
  
"Sounds good," said Frank. "When do I start?"  
  
"After breakfast?" Tu-Mey suggested. "I'll take care of your room and board here, as I do with my other employees," he added, waving a hand around the table.  
  
"They all work for you?" inquired Frank.  
  
"Tu-Mey is a good boss," Ben put in with a grin. "You can't knock the pay and the job is definitely interesting at times."  
  
"What is the job?" asked Frank.  
  
"Just do as you're told," Baldwin said, staring at Frank. "I'll show you the ropes. It won't take long for you to get into the swing of things." Frank was sure he was right, especially when you took into consideration the fact that Baldwin had himself just arrived here.  
  
Six hours later Frank put the last barrel into place and secured the rope. He stepped back and checked the job he had just finished with a critical eye. "Not bad," Baldwin said, coming up behind Frank. "Ready to break for lunch?"  
  
"And how," agreed Frank, wiping sweat from his brow.  
  
"Let's get going then," Baldwin said. "I've got to make a quick stop before we eat."  
  
"Where?" asked Frank.  
  
"Tu-Mey's place," Baldwin answered. "He asked me to take care of something for him."  
  
"What?" Frank asked.  
  
Baldwin shrugged. "Some rodent," he replied with a short laugh. "Don't know why though," he added. "That pest won't be alive much longer."  
  
"Is it sick or something?" asked Frank with forced calm. He knew the 'rodent' had to be Joe.  
  
"Or something," Baldwin answered evasively.  
  
"Wait here," Baldwin ordered Frank when they reached a large house not too far from where they had been working and pulling out a set of keys from his pocket.   
  
Frank tried the door shortly after Baldwin disappeared inside but he had relocked it behind him. Frank wished he had the lock pick kit his dad had given him for Christmas the previous year but he had left it at home knowing it would have been confiscated by customs.   
  
He moved to a side window and peered inside. He could see Baldwin carrying a large metal box through an open door but that was it. Frank frowned. A rat trap? he wondered. Maybe it really was a rodent Baldwin was taking care of. But Baldwin was behind Joe's abduction so he had to know where they took him. And since Tu-Mey treated Baldwin like he trusted him then Tu-Mey had to be connected to Joe's kidnapping as well.   
  
Yes, decided Frank. He was definitely going to check Tu-Mey's place out. He returned to the back door and waited for Baldwin's return. A few minutes later, Baldwin exited the house and then he and Frank continued down the road to a little diner.  
  
At lunch, Baldwin invited Frank to go with him to the pool hall after work. Frank agreed. The more time he spent with Baldwin the faster he could be trusted and the sooner he could get involved with the shadier dealings at the docks.  
  
Frank tried to concentrate on what he was doing the rest of the afternoon but his thoughts kept wandering back to Tu-Mey's house and the 'rodent' Baldwin had been requested to take care of. Was Joe a prisoner there? Frank hoped so because the alternatives were almost too unbearable to contemplate. Death or slavery. The former probability wafted in his mind and refused to dissipate. He knew his brother well enough to know that he would die a horribly painful death rather than spend his life in abject servitude.  
  
Forget the piracy! thought Frank, glancing over at Baldwin when he couldn't take it anymore. He had to find a way to ditch him for the afternoon so he could explore Tu-Mey's house.  
  
After work Baldwin came over to Frank and clapped him on the back. "Not bad," he congratulated the youth. "Look like we're going to have to put off the pool for a bit," he continued. "Tu-Mey has a meeting with some businessman in town and he wants us to stand-by."  
  
"Over time?" asked Frank, lifting his brow in surprise. "That sounds good."  
  
"Indeed," Tu-Mey said, coming up behind them. "I pay well for overtime," Tu-Mey continued. "But, unfortunately, only a select few get to work it and you haven't been here long enough."  
  
"Figures," Frank replied with as much bitterness as he could muster while containing his joy at being able to search Tu-Mey's home in peace.  
  
"Yo, man," Ben said, joining the three. "What's up with the 'tude?"  
  
Frank shrugged and walked away. Ben hurried over to catch up. "Don't be mad," Ben told Frank. "Tu-Mey's cool."  
  
"Sure he is," snarled Frank. "He's just like my last boss. He didn't like me so he gave all the good details to anyone but me. But I showed him," he added only loud enough to barely be heard.  
  
"What was that?" Ben demanded, pulling Frank to a stop.  
  
"Nothing," Frank said and shook off Ben's hand. He continued out of the building, comfortable in the knowledge that his cover was growing more established and confident he would have time to look for Joe while Tu-Mey attended to his business. 


	42. Chapter 42

Frank stopped in town and bought a cheap pocketknife before going to Tu-Mey's house. There he looked around unobtrusively before going to the back door. He inserted it between the cheap metal lock and the frame. Seconds later he was inside the building with the door firmly closed behind him.  
  
Frank headed straight for the door he had seen Baldwin enter earlier and descended the stairs on the other side. He scowled in disappointment when all he found was an empty room. There was no sign of Joe anywhere but over in the corner, on a table, was the metal box he had seen Baldwin carrying.  
  
Curious, Frank went over and picked it up. He lifted the latch and looked inside. Lying there were five crisp one hundred-dollar bills: American. He reached in and pulled them out, wondering if they might be counterfeit.  
  
"Congratulations," Tu-Mey said from the bottom of the steps.  
  
Startled, Frank swung around and stared at Tu-Mey, Baldwin, Ben and another man he had seen at the docks but didn't know by name.  
  
"Fine," growled Frank. "You caught me. I suppose an apology won't cover it?" he asked sarcastically.  
  
Tu-Mey broke out laughing as the other men just grinned at him. "Relax, Tim," Tu-Mey told him. "And keep the five hundred for passing the test," he added.  
  
"What?" a dumbfounded Frank asked.  
  
"My business entails more than is allowed by the local authorities," Tu-Mey explained. "You seemed like the sort who could be of use in our endeavors but we couldn't proceed without making sure."  
  
"See, the real money is in stealing," Ben informed Frank. "We take stuff and sell it to the highest bidder."  
  
"What kind of stuff?" asked Frank. "And from who?"  
  
"Does it matter?" asked Tu-Mey, narrowing his eyes on Frank. "As long as you get paid?"  
  
"Yeah, it does," answered Frank. "Five hundred isn't much if it's gonna put me behind bars for a long time."  
  
"You'll get a cut," Baldwin informed him. "Five percent which averages out to about twenty-five grand a week in good old American dollars."  
  
"Twenty-five...." Frank broke off. He smiled. "I'm in."  
  
It was almost midnight by the time Frank arrived back at the boarding house. Baldwin, Ben and the others had gone to a bar downtown to get drunk so Frank had declined with the excuse of hunger and belated jet lag.  
  
After a light meal at a greasy cafe near the boarding house, Frank returned to the empty house. After making sure Tu-Lynn was also out, Frank spent an hour searching the premises, including every drawer and beneath every bed. He went to his room and closed his door in disappointment when he heard a car pull up outside.  
  
Tu-Lynn entered through the back door, singing heartily, and made his way through the kitchen and into the living room. Tu-Lynn's voice faded away as he headed upstairs and Frank, knowing he could search no more, got ready for bed.  
  
Frank was seated at the breakfast table with his fellow boarding-mates when Tu-Mey arrived the next morning. "We have work to do this morning, gentlemen," he informed the men after his brother had left the room. "Tim, you and Ben come with me," he ordered. "The rest of you head on down to the docks."  
  
Tu-Mey drove to a large building almost twenty miles from town. It was an old hospital, deserted for some time from the looks of it. Tu-Mey pulled up to the front of the building and parked the car. Frank got out of the car and followed Ben and Tu-Mey inside.  
  
"What are they doing here?" inquired a man with green eyes and dark brown hair. He was a bit imposing at six foot four and over three hundred pounds but it was obvious he was not in charge of the complex or of whatever was going on inside the building.  
  
"They are here to move some of the products," Tu-Mey answered. "Show them what to take," he instructed. "I need to talk to Solomon."   
  
Frank followed the man down a narrow corridor after seeing Tu-Mey head up a set of steps. He kept an eye out for cameras and other forms of security. If Joe were a captive, this would be a good place to hold him and Frank intended to search the entire place come hell or high water.  
  
Frank helped move several crates of equipment, all with markings of the US government, to a tractor-trailer parked at the rear of the building. The task took only a couple of hours to complete and when they were finished Tu-Mey joined them in a break room where they had been instructed to wait.  
  
An hour later they returned to the docks where Tu-Mey left them to meet with an American businessman in town. Baldwin, whom Frank had found out was second in command of the current operation, led him and some others past the warehouse where they had been working and to the end of the docks where a large ship was moored.   
  
It bugged Frank that Baldwin was so high in the ranks when he had been teaching Joe at the boarding school. He was relieved that they were on the right track and Joe was definitely a prisoner here somewhere, if he hadn't already been sold. But why would they have someone so high up in the chain of command put himself at such a risk just to grab Joe?  
  
Frank swallowed and followed the others up the gangplank. Granted, he was supposed to find the pirates but to actually be one was something else entirely. He walked up the gangplank and jumped down onto the deck. There was no way out now. He would have to participate in the ambush and pray they didn't get blasted away or, worse, caught. He could get out of it because he was acting on orders that originated from the Unites States government, but he was sure that with so many men caught the building they had been in would be evacuated. That would mean he couldn't search for Joe. His cover would be blown. The thought weighed heavily on his shoulders as he prepared to do whatever he could to ensure the success of today's pirating mission. 


	43. Chapter 43

Joe struggled with the manacles that bound him to no avail. He had been sitting in the same chair for over two days now and he was sore, tired and hungry. The only nourishment he had been given was a chocolate flavored drink fed to him through a straw twice a day. He didn't feel weak but still, the liquid diet wasn't enough.  
  
He wondered if they watched him all the time or just when they were with him. He was positive he was in some sort of operating room that had been redone to accommodate the many people involved in duplicating him. Oh yes, he knew what they were up to. Stealing his fingerprint via the skin off his thumb and having the boy who had his build practice speaking like him and studying the photographs so intently could only mean they planned on having one of their men take his place. But why?  
  
Did this have something to do with the reason his dad had sent him to boarding school in the first place? Joe tried pulling his wrists from the cuffs again, wincing as more skin rubbed off in the process. He sighed and leaned his head back. He had no idea where he was or if his family even knew he was missing. And if they did know, would they be able to find him? He knew Baldwin would never tell the truth about his disappearance. What would they have to go on?   
  
And would they even try? It still hurt that his dad had sent him away. True, Joe now knew there was an ulterior motive behind the exile but why just him? And why hadn't his dad told him the truth? Why had his dad let him think he didn't want him around? Maybe they didn't really want him around Joe thought, sinking deeper into his depression. But Frank did. Frank had tried to tell him he was wrong. He had tried to make him feel better but....But Frank hadn't tried to talk his dad out of sending him away. Not really. He said he had but his last night at home Frank had spent in his room; not arguing with their father.  
  
Feeling worse than he had since he was first sent away from home, Joe let his head hang down and his wrists go limp. Maybe they'll like the new me better, he thought miserably. If the new me doesn't kill them, he tacked on silently as his face broke into a scowl.  
  
Frank exited the ship with shaky legs. They had overtaken the US Carolina and confiscated her cargo. The crew and captain had been locked below deck, all securely bound, and left behind. Tu-Mey had insisted there was too much cargo to deal with any captives and so all had been left behind.  
  
Frank breathed a sigh of relief. He hated this part of undercover work. Hurting innocent people was something that bothered him no matter what the cause so he was grateful he had not been instrumental in hurting any of the men or in helping to enslave them via the black-market that his father had mentioned.  
  
"We're heading to the bar," Ben said, coming over and slapping Frank on the back. "Drinks are on Tu-Mey!"  
  
"Not tonight," Frank declined the offer with a firm shake of his head. "I think I need to get my sea legs operating before I start drinking."  
  
Ben let out a loud guffaw. "You didn't do too badly," he told Frank. "At least you didn't throw up."  
  
"Yet," Frank qualified for him. "I gotta go," he added, trying his best to sound nauseated.  
  
"Next time!" Ben shouted after him as Frank hurried away from the docks.  
  
Frank threw up a hand in acknowledgement but never turned around as he continued away from his comrades in crime. When he was a full mile away from the docks he slowed his gait a bit.  
  
If they were all going to the bar, Tu-Mey included, then he stood a better chance of investigating the old hospital now. Sure, there would be some guards around but he doubted security would be as taxing now as it had been earlier.  
  
Frank hailed a cab and took it most of the way out. Getting out about a mile away he hiked the rest of the way. He was glad to see he had been right about the security. He watched the side entrance to the building and saw only one guard every few minutes. He waited until the guard passed by for the fourth time and turned the corner of the building before running from his hiding place to the door. He pulled out the knife he had purchased earlier and quickly popped the lock on the door and went inside.  
  
Not wasting time looking over the area he had been in earlier, he took the direction Tu-Mey had taken earlier. Frank slowed down and ducked in a room when he heard footsteps approaching. He listened at the door until they passed then started to exit. Opening the door he started to leave stopping as he saw a lone figure out of the corner of his eye seated behind a one-way mirror in the next room.  
  
"Joe," breathed Frank. 


	44. Chapter 44

Frank shut the door then moved to the one that led into what must have at one time been an operating room. "Joe?" Frank whispered as he crossed the room and knelt by his brother's side.  
  
Joe opened his eyes. "Who.....Frank?" he gasped in disbelief recognizing his brother's eyes. "You're really here?"  
  
"I'm really here, Baby Brother," Frank assured him, swallowing the lump in his throat at the pitiful sight his younger sibling made. "Let's get you out of these things," he said pulling out his pocketknife.  
  
"Ow!!" Joe yelled unintentionally as Frank brushed against his thumb.  
  
"Sorry," Frank apologized looking at the bandage on Joe's hand. "What happened?"  
  
"Later," promised Joe. "Just get me loose and let's get out of here."  
  
Frank folded the knife up and put it back in his pocket. It was useless. He looked around for something he could use to release Joe, gasping in surprise when his eyes fell on a set of keys lying on one of the tables. Soon, Joe was free. Frank helped him to a standing position. "Can you make it?" he asked.  
  
Joe nodded as Frank released him. Joe wobbled and would have fallen had not Frank caught him. Frank wrapped an arm around Joe's waist and helped to steady him. "Sorry," apologized Joe. "I've been sitting in that chair for ages."  
  
"Don't worry," Frank told him with a gentle squeeze. "I've got you and I'm not leaving here without you. After we get out of this place you can rest before we head to town."  
  
"Good," Joe murmured.  
  
Luckily they made it out of the old hospital after having to take refuge only once as two guards checked the area. Joe had to rest after they reached the safety of the trees but Frank only allowed him a few minutes because he was sure Joe would be discovered missing soon.  
  
No cars passed as they made their way slowly back to town. At the first public phone they came to Frank let Joe rest against a pole as he called his father.  
  
"Are you okay?" Fenton demanded when he heard Frank's voice.  
  
"I'm fine," Frank quickly assured him. "And I've got Joe. He's okay but he still needs to see a doctor."  
  
"Where are you?" asked Fenton. Frank gave him the name of the road they had just passed and the name of the small grocery store they were across the street from. "Can you wait inside?" queried Fenton, worried they might be spotted.  
  
"Negative," answered Frank. "It's closed."  
  
"Try to hide," Fenton ordered him. "I'll be there as quick as I can," he added before hanging up.  
  
"Okay, Little Brother," Frank said, bending down and helping Joe to his feet. "We need to get out of sight until Dad gets here."  
  
"Dad's here too?" asked Joe in surprise as they started across the street.  
  
"Of course Dad is here," Frank told him, frowning. "Joe, he didn't send you to the boarding..."  
  
"I know," Joe interrupted him. "I found out what kind of place it was and put two and two together," he explained. "But why couldn't he just have told me?"  
  
"He wasn't allowed to do so," answered Frank. "Look, when we get home we will make him tell us everything."  
  
"Do I get to go home?" Joe asked bitterly as Frank helped ease him to a sitting position then joined him.  
  
"Of course you do," Frank assured him, his eyes sad as he thought about all Joe had been through. "We're going to wrap this case up and then we're all going home and yes, you do get to stay," he added before Joe could interrupt him. "That whole boarding school thing had to do with what's going on here but I'm pretty sure we can wrap this thing up tomorrow...er, today," he corrected himself, looking down at his watch.  
  
"Whatever," Joe said softly, leaving his head back and closing his eyes. He was too tired to care.  
  
"Joe, Dad's here," Frank woke him up a little later. Frank stood and helped Joe to his feet. As they came out of hiding, Fenton rushed to Joe's side.  
  
"Son, are you all right?" demanded Fenton, taking Joe's free arm and wrapping it around his shoulders to help him to the car.  
  
"I am now," Joe said with a wan smile. "Are we going home?"  
  
"Not yet," Fenton replied opening the rear door of the car and helping Joe inside as Frank relinquished his hold on Joe and climbed in first. "You are going to the hospital," Fenton continued once he was back behind the wheel. "Frank, I need you to tell me everything you've learned," he instructed his eldest son. "I've got a meeting set up for later this afternoon. If you have found out where their base is then we can wrap this up and be home by tomorrow afternoon."  
  
Frank told his dad about the warehouse, the ship and the old hospital where he had found Joe. "Ouch," Joe said when Frank had finished. "That's some heavy duty pirating."  
  
"It's worse than that," Frank said then told him everything he had learned about the case from Fenton.  
  
"You did good," Fenton complimented Frank. "The Mandritsara authorities will be able to shut down the hospital and the warehouse."  
  
"What about your meeting?" asked Joe.  
  
"With what Frank found, it's moot," Fenton answered. "It will be a matter of rounding everyone up and the authorities can handle that."  
  
"I don't understand one thing," Joe said.  
  
"Son, I'm sorry about the boarding school," Fenton said. "I didn't want your brother working alone and you weren't going to be allowed to participate without going."  
  
"Not that," Joe said with a shake of his head as his father brought the vehicle to a stop in the parking lot of the emergency entrance to the hospital. "I don't understand why they were making a duplicate of me." 


	45. Chapter 45

"What?" gasped Frank in surprise.  
  
"Perhaps they thought they could use him as a spy," suggested Fenton. "After all, they did know I was working on this case and who better to be a spy than my own son?"  
  
"But why me?" asked Joe.  
  
"Because you were at the school were they had a spy," explained Fenton. "If Frank had of been available like that, then they would have taken him."  
  
"So you delivered me to them on a silver platter," Joe accused his father with hurt blue eyes.  
  
"I'm sorry, Joe," Fenton apologized in a contrite voice. "I love you very much and if I had suspected, even for a minute, that you wouldn't have been completely safe there then I never would have let you go."  
  
"He's telling the truth," Frank urged Joe to believe their father. "McFadden's men grabbed us and he was going to let them kill mom and us rather than tell where you were."  
  
"Really?" Joe asked, his blue eyes widening in shock. "How could you?" he demanded angrily. "You were going to let them kill Mom and Frank?"  
  
"Son," Fenton tried to calm him down. "Like I told McFadden's goons: I won't trade the life of someone I love for that of someone else that I love."  
  
"But if you had no choice?" pushed Joe.  
  
"Then I would rather commit suicide," Fenton answered honestly. "I will not be responsible for any member of my family dying to save another. The only trade off I would ever give is myself."  
  
"I'm sorry," Joe said in a small voice.  
  
"Don't be," Fenton told him. "I'm sorry you've had to go through this."  
  
The three exited the car and went inside. A wheelchair was brought for Joe but before he could be taken away Frank stepped forward. "I'm going with him," he insisted.  
  
"It's against policy," the nurse informed him.  
  
"I don't care about your policy," Frank told her in a polite but firm voice. "He's not leaving my sight."  
  
"Do I have to call security?" the nurse demanded, her nostrils flaring as she looked up at him.  
  
"Would you?" asked Fenton. "That is, call the authorities?" he requested. "Ask for Commandant Tenyo," he instructed.  
  
"Wh..." the nurse began but broke off, shocked that a foreigner would desire the attention of the head of the police.  
  
"Or, if you prefer, I can call him," Fenton continued. "There is a courtesy phone somewhere around here, is there not?"  
  
"Yes, Sir," the nurse answered, pointing to a door on the left. "Through there on you're left."  
  
"Thank you," Fenton said. He turned to his boys. "I'll take care of things," he said. "You two stay here until you hear from me or Commandant Tenyo."  
  
"Yes, Sir," Frank agreed.  
  
"Come along," the nurse said, taking the handles of Joe's wheelchair and pushing him ahead. "You," she added to Frank who kept pace. "Please try to stay out of the way."  
  
"Hey, you two," Fenton said as their plane touched down in Bayport the next day. "Wake up. We're home."  
  
Fenton smiled as his boys awoke. After contacting Tenyo things happened quickly. The old hospital and warehouse had been raided as had the boarding house and Tu-Mey's. The ship was found and confiscated and all but two of the bad guys had been captured. By the time Joe was released from the hospital the case had been completely taken care of and Fenton, Frank and Joe were allowed to head back to the states on a plane leaving late that evening.  
  
"It's good to be back," Joe said once they had exited the airport and were on their way home.  
  
"It's good to have you back," Fenton said, smiling. "Your brother was driving everyone crazy."  
  
Joe laughed and turned to look at the scenery as they neared Elm Street. When the taxi stopped, the three Hardy's got out. Fenton paid the driver then they went up the walk. Fenton unlocked the door then stepped aside to let Joe and Frank enter the house.  
  
Joe went first, stopping in surprise at the entrance to the living room as a multitude of voices shouted, "Welcome home!"  
  
Vanessa came up and threw her arms around Joe who stiffened briefly before relaxing. "I told you that your folks wouldn't make you stay there forever," she chastised him before giving him a big kiss on the lips. "We are still going together, aren't we?" she asked a bit worriedly, pulling back when Joe never returned her exuberant welcome.  
  
Joe smiled at her. "Of course," he said, finally putting his arms around her. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I just didn't expect all of this," he explained, looking at his friends.  
  
"Well, you should have," Biff stated, coming up and putting a hand on Joe's shoulder and squeezing it. "We missed you buddy."  
  
The evening went fast and by the time the last guest had left, Joe was almost asleep on his feet.  
  
"Come on bro," Frank said, taking Joe's arm and leading him to the stairs. "Bedtime."  
  
"Sounds good," agreed Joe, yawning.  
  
The next day dawned bright and warm. Joe, feeling almost as good as new, leaped out of bed and hit the shower after removing the bandage from his thumb and finding it healing well. When he went downstairs for breakfast he found they had company.  
  
"Good morning," Joe greeted the two men seated with his dad and brother.  
  
"Hi, Joe," Chief Collig greeted the youth. "It's good to have you back."  
  
"Yeah," agreed Con Riley, slapping Joe on the back. "Just try and stay out of trouble for a few days?" he begged in a teasing manner.  
  
"I intend to," Joe told him.  
  
"Frank was telling us that you two are headed to the beach this morning," Fenton said, looking at Joe with a critical eye to make sure he was up to the day's festivities.  
  
"Vanessa and Callie planned a clambake for later this evening," Joe said, grinning. "This morning we're just going to soak up some rays and hit the waves."  
  
"Not too many waves for you," Frank told Joe, his forehead furrowing in concern. "You still need to take it easy for a bit."  
  
"Yes, mother," Joe teased as the phone pealed.  
  
"I'll get it," Frank said, standing up and going for it as it rang again. "Hello?" he answered.  
  
"Frank?" a voice Frank would know anywhere came through the line. "Help me," the voice begged. "I think I'm somewhere in..." With a trembling hand Frank hung up the receiver after the line went dead.  
  
"Who was it?" asked Fenton in concern looking at Frank's face as it turned a dark red.  
  
"Joe," Frank answered, glaring at the blond-headed boy who paled under the scrutiny of the assembled group. 


	46. Chapter 46

"You slime!" snarled Frank, bunching his right hand into a fist and running over to where Joe was now standing. Before Joe could defend himself Frank brought his fist up and rammed it into Joe's left jaw.  
  
Joe fell backwards, crashing onto the table and causing it to collapse. "Where's my brother?" demanded Frank, advancing on the youth again.  
  
"I am your brother!" Joe yelled at him.  
  
"Easy, Son," Fenton said, grabbing Frank before he could attack Joe again. "What did the caller say?"  
  
"Joe," Frank stressed the name. "Joe was asking me to help him."  
  
"Did he say where he was?" asked Fenton.  
  
"Hello! I'm right here," Joe interrupted angrily as he slowly got to his feet without any offers of help.  
  
"No," answered Frank with a grim set to his features. "He was cut off." Frank looked back at the boy they had brought home. "You people sold him into slavery after you had finished with him, didn't you?" he snarled.  
  
"I don't know who that was that called but it wasn't me!" Joe shouted angrily. "I told you they were working on making another me. Why would I tell you that if I wasn't really me?" he demanded logically.  
  
"So we wouldn't suspect you," Frank stated.  
  
"And why would you suspect me if some cretin hadn't called pretending to be me?" Joe asked.  
  
"We wouldn't have if you hadn't told us," Fenton stated.  
  
"Finally!" exclaimed Joe, raising his hands in the air for emphasis. "Whoever that was obviously wants us back in Madagascar."  
  
"And I'm going," Frank stated firmly, still glowering at Joe.  
  
"It's a trap," Joe told him with a scowl. "I'm right in front of you."  
  
"You're not Joe," Frank said. "You didn't even recognize Vanessa last night until she asked if you two were still dating," he accused the blond youth.  
  
"I was shocked," Joe defended his actions. "First the party and then Van acting like I hadn't even tried to break up with her. It took a minute to get used to."  
  
"Liar!" snarled Frank. "Dad," he added, looking at his father after turning from Joe in disgust. "I'm going."  
  
"All right," agreed Fenton.  
  
"You can't!" Joe shouted in protest.  
  
"Obviously, this case is not closed," Fenton said.  
  
"Fine," Joe gave in wearily. "We'll go back."  
  
"You aren't going anywhere except to jail," Frank told him, unintentionally bunching his hand into a fist once more.  
  
"Enough!" ordered Fenton.  
  
"We could check his prints," suggested Collig.  
  
"No good," Fenton declined the suggestion. "Joe's thumb had been cut. They took his print so even if this isn't Joe, he still will have Joe's prints."  
  
"Crimmeny!" groaned Joe. He had thought his Dad believed him.  
  
"Frank, you can leave on the next flight," Fenton continued as if Joe hadn't spoken. "I will follow in a day or two. I need to go to Washington first."  
  
"Right," agreed Frank.  
  
"What about me?" asked Joe.  
  
"For the time being, you are confined to your room," Fenton told him.  
  
"That's not fair!" objected Joe vehemently.  
  
"It's either that or a jail cell," Fenton stated firmly.  
  
Joe scowled. "Great," he grumbled. "But I have to call Vanessa and cancel our date before I go to my room."  
  
"You will not," Frank told him with flashing eyes. "I'll call her."  
  
"She's my..." Joe began but Frank cut him off.  
  
"She's my brother's girlfriend. Not yours!"  
  
"Your plane leaves at eleven tonight," Fenton said, entering Frank's room a little later.  
  
"Dad, you can't leave that spy here with mom," Frank said, unaware Joe was listening to the conversation though the bathroom door.  
  
"I don't intend to," Fenton assured Frank. "But we don't know for sure that he isn't your brother," he reminded Frank.  
  
"He's not," Frank said with confidence. "I should have suspected something. It was way too easy to get in and get him out of that place."  
  
Fenton sighed. "I hate to say it, but you are probably right."  
  
"Then what are going to do with him?" demanded Frank.  
  
"Ever heard the adage 'keep your friends close but your enemies closer?'" Fenton asked.  
  
"I'm not taking him with me," objected Frank.  
  
"I have already talked to Chief Collig about it," Fenton said. "Before he and Con left they agreed it would be best if Joe were placed in protective custody when I leave. He won't be able to go anywhere or warn anyone that way."  
  
"Good," Frank said. "I just wish you would have him locked up now."  
  
Joe moved away from the bathroom door and retreated to his bedroom. He couldn't do anything locked up and he couldn't let Frank go to Madagascar by himself. There was no telling what he would find. After a few moments of thought, he opened his bedroom window and climbed onto the sill. He gave a big jump and grabbed the branch on the elm tree nearest the house. In seconds, he was on the ground and on his way to the airport. 


	47. Chapter 47

Ezra Collig took a swig from his cola then sputtered it out as he caught sight of a familiar figure cutting across the street in front of him. "Riley!" he growled, his eyes not leaving his suspect.  
  
"Joe?" gasped Con, seeing what had captured his superior's attention.  
  
"Not Joe," Collig stated grimly. "Joe was sent to his room. Under the circumstances, I'm sure the real Joe Hardy would have stayed there. Let's get him."  
  
Joe saw Collig and Sergeant Riley start after him and picked up his gait. He had to throw the two men off of his trail. He cut across the next road and ran down an alley, stopping and kneeling behind a trash can as a patrol car crept slowly by. Blast it! he thought. Collig must have already put an APB out on him.  
  
He waited until the car had turned the corner then took off in the same direction, stopping and emitting a mild expletive when he saw the car had stopped and an officer was exiting the passenger side. Joe retraced his steps, passing the alley he had exited and went inside a shoe store.  
  
"Can I help you?" asked a young man with cropped brown hair.  
  
"I hope so," Joe replied. "Is there anyway I could use the back exit?"  
  
"Sure, Joe," the man said, recognizing the youth from countless articles in the Bayport Times. "Working on a case?"  
  
"Yeah," Joe answered. "And I need to lose a shadow."  
  
"No problem," the man said with a smile. "As a matter of fact, our delivery truck is just getting ready to leave. If you want, you can ride out on it?"  
  
"That would be great," Joe replied, relief showing in his blue eyes. "Thanks."  
  
Joe was led through the store to the rear entrance where the last of the shipment of new shoes was being unloaded. After a few words between the two men Joe was allowed to climb into the cab and duck down.  
  
Fifteen minutes and two miles later, Joe thanked the driver and exited the cab. He thumbed a ride to the airport where he checked departure times and found the plane Frank was going to be on. He spent the next forty minutes scouting around before finding a way to stowaway on the plane.  
  
Frank ended his call with Callie and dialed Vanessa's number. He tapped his fingers against the table nervously as he waited for her to answer.  
  
"Hello?" Vanessa picked up on the third ring.  
  
"Van, it's Frank," he said.  
  
"Is something wrong?" demanded Vanessa, not used to receiving calls from Frank unless her boyfriend was in trouble.  
  
"Big time," replied Frank. "It wasn't Joe we brought back," he informed her. "Just someone made up to look like him."  
  
"No way," Vanessa objected. "It's Joe."  
  
"I know my brother," Frank said a bit crossly. "And this guy hasn't been acting like Joe at all."  
  
"He's been through a lot," Vanessa said. "It's only natural he's acting a bit strange. Why would you even think it wasn't him?"  
  
"Because Joe called this morning," Frank explained, running a hand through his brown hair as he tried to release the agitation and self-anger he felt. How could he have been fooled even for a second? "Joe managed to escape long enough to let us know he needed help."  
  
"Sounds like a trap to me," Vanessa declared. "And not a very good one at that because Joe is here."  
  
"He's not Joe," Frank stressed.  
  
"Frank, I kissed him," Vanessa said. "And no matter how a duplicate might look, speak or act, no one can kiss like Joe."  
  
"Maybe," Frank said, pretending to consider her words. "But either way, this Joe is confined to his room until we know for sure and that means we won't be going with you girls today."  
  
"All right," Vanessa acknowledged regretfully. "Tell Joe I said to hang in there. You will get to the bottom of this soon."  
  
"Okay," Frank reluctantly agreed before saying goodbye and hanging up.  
  
Taking a deep breath he walked to Joe's door and pushed it open, not bothering to knock. "I called Vanessa..." he said as he entered. He broke off when he discovered the window open and Joe missing.  
  
"Dad!" shouted Frank, running from the room and downstairs to where his parents were seated. The phone pealed before he could tell them of Joe's escape. Frank stopped beside the couch and waited impatiently for his father to finish with the caller. As soon as he hung up Frank blurted out: "That fake escaped!"  
  
"I know," Fenton said, his eyes filled not with anger as Frank's, but with sadness because he had been hoping they had the real Joe. "That was Ezra," he explained. "They saw Joe downtown but when they tried to catch him he gave them the slip." 


	48. Chapter 48

The next afternoon Frank tossed his overnight bag on the bed in the sleazy motel room he had rented and sat down. He rubbed the back of his neck, willing the tension to go away but the knot remained. With a heavy sigh, he got back up, unpacked, then headed into the small bathroom.  
  
His dad had been able to find out that the auctions were being held in a little town less than forty miles north of Mandritsara but was unable to learn any details.  
  
Frank climbed in the shower and lathered up his hair; a pointless thing to do since he would be greasing it down before he left in less than an hour, but if felt good none the less. After a few minutes he shut off the shower and got out. He slipped into a pair of pale blue boxers then pulled on a pair of faded blue jeans. A faded black tee shirt finished the outfit before he pulled open the bathroom door and stepped out.  
  
Before he could blink a fist crashed into his jaw sending him reeling back. Two shadowy figures rushed at him and a damp cloth was put over his face. In seconds he was out cold with not even a glimpse of his attackers.  
  
"I told you, I can't go back," said a familiar voice. Frank tried to open his eyes but couldn't because of the blindfold. "They found out who I was."  
  
"Relax," another voice ordered the fake Joe, for Frank recognized the voice. "We'll work something out. At least you won't have to try and fool his brother anymore."  
  
Frank strained to listen as the two men walked away but couldn't hear anything other than their muffled voices and even that was extinguished by the closing of a door. Once they were gone, Frank rubbed his head against the floor and managed to slide the blindfold up enough to see his prison. The room was dark and it took him a minute to distinguish shapes with only the barest amount of light that crept through the cracks around a solitary window that had been painted black.  
  
The room wasn't very large and it was sparsely decorated with a cot and a small table holding a lamp but Frank couldn't make out anything else. He began struggling with the ropes that bound his wrists; twisting and turning as much as he could, but they were too tight. Not about to admit defeat, he rolled over to the doorframe and scooted to a sitting position. He listened for a bit to see if anyone was near and, hearing nothing, began rubbing the ropes up and down against the frame.  
  
Almost forty minutes later, Frank felt the ropes start to give. Giving a sigh of relief, he rubbed as vigorously as his aching arms would allow. A few minutes more and his hands were free. Wasting no time, he yanked the blindfold from its position on his head and pulled the gag from his mouth before removing the rope from his ankles.  
  
Finally freed from all of his trappings, Frank got to his feet. Leaning against the doorframe for support he waited as the familiar sensation of pins and needles assaulted him as his blood flow was once again established in its regularity. When he could once again support himself, he put his hand on the door's knob and gave it a turn. Considering how well they had tied him up he wasn't surprised to find they hadn't bothered locking the door.  
  
He eased the door open and slipped out of the room, closing the door gently behind him. He wrinkled his nose and wiggled his toes as his left bare foot landed in a puddle of spittle. He wiped the bottom of his foot on his pants' leg then continued down the narrow hallway, stopping at the first door.  
  
He doubted Joe was here since he had been imprisoned alone but he had to check. The first door he opened turned out to be a bathroom. The next door led to a bedroom with a bit more furniture than the room he had been in although the panes were also painted black. Only two more doors before the hallway ended and opened into a foyer where Frank could see a door leading outside.  
  
He opened the next to the last door expecting to see another empty bedroom. "Joe!" he gasped, his brown eyes growing wide in horror. There on the floor of the bare bedroom lay his younger brother, bound hand and foot, with a gag in his mouth. His eyes were shut but one was swollen and had already turned several shades.  
  
Frank hurried over to where he lay and reached for Joe's neck to check his pulse but Joe's good eye fluttered open. First fear and then utter relief flooded the blue eye.  
  
"Easy, Baby Brother," Frank whispered as he removed the gag. "I'm going to get you out of here." Next he reached for the ropes that bound Joe's wrists, pausing in anger when he saw Joe's thumb, ripe with infection. He finished freeing Joe then helped him to his feet.  
  
The sound of the front door opening reached their ears as they took their first tentative steps toward the door. "Shh!" hissed Frank, rushing forward and closing the door and then back to Joe's side to catch him before he fell to the floor.  
  
Frank eased Joe into a sitting position then stepped to the side of the door and waited. Sure enough, seconds after the footsteps had receded down the hall Frank heard the steps running back toward them. The door was thrown open and a thirty-something man with dark hair and a dark complexion stood silhouetted in the doorway less than a second before Frank's fist connected with his jaw.  
  
Down went the man. Frank waited for two counts before returning to Joe. They edged around the unconscious kidnapper and down the hallway to the front door.  
  
"Can you lean against the wall while I check outside?" whispered Frank.  
  
Joe nodded and leaned against the wall for support as Frank stepped to the doorway. Seeing no one around, he returned to Joe and helped him out of the house and to the vehicle that must belong to the man inside.  
  
There were no keys in the car but that didn't detour Frank. He popped the hood to check for the wires he needed to cross but couldn't figure it out. As he leaned in to ask Joe for help he saw his brother already fixing the wires on the inside of the car. He was biting down on his lip to keep from crying out as he used his swollen thumb to hold one wire while his good thumb and fingers worked on twisting another.  
  
Frank climbed in as the engine gunned to life. "Hurry," Joe rasped through dry lips as his captor appeared in the doorway.  
  
Frank threw the jeep into gear and hit the gas as a bullet smacked into the side of his door. More bullets followed as he took off down the road. 


	49. Chapter 49

Frank remained on the highway, maintaining a speed in the sixties until he reached the city limits. There, he slowed down and navigated the streets coming to a stop in front of the police station.  
  
"Joe," Frank said, turning to look at his brother. "Joe," he said again, reaching out and touching his shoulder. Joe opened his eyes although only one was wide enough to see through. "I have to go inside," Frank told Joe. "Lock yourself in and don't open up until I get back. Got it?"  
  
Joe nodded.  
  
Two hours later, Joe was ensconced in a hospital bed and Frank was by his side talking on the phone to his father.  
  
"Is he well enough to travel?" Fenton asked Frank.  
  
"Yes," acknowledged Frank, looking at the still form of his brother. "The doctor gave him a sedative and he's on an IV now with some antibiotics. He will need to see Dr. Bates when he gets home but the doctor here said he would be up to the journey tomorrow."  
  
"Okay. Good," said Fenton. "I'll make the arrangements. Just be careful. Until the imposter is caught your brother could still be in danger."  
  
"Don't worry," Frank replied. "I'm not leaving Joe's side."  
  
"I'll call you in a bit to let you know what plane you will be on," Fenton informed him.  
  
"We'll be here," Frank said. "Night."  
  
"Goodnight, Son," returned Fenton with a smile as he looked out the window of his home office into the early morning sun.  
  
"Well?" demanded Laura after Fenton had hung up.  
  
"Joe's fine," he informed her. Laura breathed a sigh of relief and sank back against her chair. "He has a mild infection and is a bit bruised but Frank assured me he is fine. They will be home just as soon as I can make the arrangements."  
  
"And it's over this time?" she demanded.  
  
"Except for the round up," acknowledged Fenton. "For us anyway. The Madagascar authorities will be handling the rest. And after the boys get back and settled, I can go back to the case I was working on before this one cropped up."  
  
"Which case?" Laura asked, cocking her head sideways.  
  
"It's classified," Fenton answered regretfully. "But the repercussions will only affect those directly involved; not hundreds of innocent people the way this case has."  
  
"Not to mention the people who would have been affected if the stolen cargoes had reached their destinations," Laura added. Although this case had also been classified, Fenton had obtained a certain amount of clearance for Laura in order to get her to agree to sending Joe to the boarding school. "Do you think Joe will really forgive us for sending him away without telling him the truth?"  
  
"I hope so, babe," Fenton said a bit fervently because the thought had been bothering him immensely. "We can only hope that he will understand why he had to go. At least he will realize something of what was at stake from his time as a prisoner."  
  
"If you hadn't listened to that man then Joe wouldn't have been kidnapped," Laura said bitterly. "And there would be no chance of him hating us."  
  
"Laura, you know why Priest insisted Joe attend the academy," Fenton reminded her. "And even though it didn't turn out well, it was a good idea," he ended.  
  
"Hmph!" Laura snorted, her blue eyes flashing. "So much hullabaloo about how difficult it would be and you and Frank were gone less than three days when you went over there. It doesn't seem to me like the case was nearly as difficult as it was portrayed to be."  
  
"We got lucky," Fenton said, although a little nagging doubt entered his sub-consciousness at her words. "Let's just be grateful it's all over and both our boys will be home soon."  
  
"Frank!" Frank heard the whispered urgency and opened his eyes to see Joe standing beside him. Not Joe! Frank knocked the intruder's hand off of his arm and jumped to his feet. How could he have fallen asleep?!  
  
"Shh!" Joe whispered again, holding a finger to his lips. "You don't want to wake him until we get the police here."  
  
"You want to go to jail?" Frank demanded in disbelief.   
  
"Let's not start that again," begged Joe. "Surely you can tell I'm your brother?"  
  
"Right," agreed Frank, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "That's why you're in great shape and he's lying there being fed antibiotics through an IV."  
  
"I don't know why they did that to him unless it was to make you think he is me," Joe declared defensively. "Obviously, they didn't think you would rescue me so soon but when you did they had to do this hoping you would fall for it and take him back with you." Joe looked at the anger in Frank's eyes. "And it's working too," he added. "You're the smart one. Think of a way for me to prove I am me."  
  
"Fr...Frank," moaned the Joe on the bed although his eyes remained closed.  
  
"Not necessary," Frank snarled. "Only my brother would call out to me when he isn't even conscious."  
  
"A little convenient timing, don't you think?" Joe demanded. "Would you please just stop thinking with your emotions and think with your brain?"  
  
"Proof positive you aren't Joe," said Frank. "I never think with my emotions."  
  
"Except where Callie and I are concerned," Joe corrected him.  
  
Frank's eyes narrowed thoughtfully on him as the door burst open and two uniformed men entered the room. "The staff was informed to alert us if anyone looking like the patient showed up," one of the officers told Frank. "Good thing he was spotted."  
  
Frank nodded. "Frank please?" begged Joe as he was pushed against the wall and frisked.  
  
A low moan came from the bed and Joe's eyes fluttered open. "Frank. What's going on?" he asked, looking at the officers in surprise. "Oh," he added dully, seeing Joe standing there being handcuffed. "It's over now?" he asked Frank.  
  
"Yes," acknowledged Frank, wiping a strand of hair from Joe's forehead affectionately. "It's over now. That creep is going to jail. He'll never see daylight again except through bars." 


	50. Chapter 50

"Baby, I'm so sorry," Laura said, racing up to her youngest son in the airport and throwing her arms around him. "Don't hate us, please? Your father couldn't tell you before but he will now," she promised. "If we had known what was going to happen then we never would have let you gone to that horrid academy no matter what your father was ordered to do."  
  
"You mean you didn't send me away because you hate me?" Joe asked, watching his mother's eyes for any sign of deceit.  
  
"Of course not," Laura declared. "We could never hate you."  
  
Joe gave her a tenuous smile. "I'm glad," he whispered, hugging her fiercely.  
  
"You aren't mad?" Fenton asked from behind Laura.  
  
"I was," Joe said. "And hurt. But I thought it over and realized you must have had a good reason to send me there although, I still am not sure what it could be."  
  
"I'll tell you about it on the way home," Fenton promised, enveloping his youngest son in a hug. "I'm just so glad to have you home."  
  
"He needs to see Dr. Bates before we go home," said Frank who had been watching the reunion with relief. He had been worried about Joe's reaction to his parent's treatment of him as well.  
  
"And he shall.," agreed Laura, patting Joe's arm with one hand and taking hold of it with the other. She led Joe out of the building with Frank and Fenton bringing up the rear.  
  
"Want to tell me what happened in the hospital?" asked Fenton as Laura and Joe moved out of earshot.  
  
When Fenton had called to tell Frank which plane he and Joe were scheduled to be on Frank had told him about the visit from the imposter but hadn't gone into detail because he hadn't wanted to upset Joe who had been awake and listening. Now, however, with Joe out of earshot, Frank told his father what the imposter had said to him.  
  
"Dad, I was really starting to believe him," confessed Frank after he had finished.  
  
"No doubt he has been well trained," Fenton said. "But didn't you say you overheard them talking while they thought you were still unconscious?" Frank nodded. "I guess the visit was the plan they came up with. It's a good thing you didn't fall for it," Fenton concluded.  
  
Frank gave a sigh of relief. He had been wondering if he had done the right thing by letting the authorities take the boy away. "You're right," Frank said, smiling. "But now, he's in jail and we won't have to worry about him anymore."  
  
"I am so ready for a nap," Joe said after an exceptionally long yawn.  
  
"An excellent suggestion," agreed Laura from the front seat of the car as Fenton pulled into the driveway. "You can go on to bed and I will bring up a tray with some soup. Dr. Bates said you shouldn't take your medicine on an empty stomach."  
  
"Sounds good," Joe said, smiling at her suggestion.  
  
"You can call Vanessa before you go to sleep," Frank said. "She's been worried sick."  
  
"She has?" asked Joe, frowning slightly.  
  
"She has," Laura asserted. "Honestly, did you think she would let you break up with her just because you were going to boarding school?"  
  
"No," Joe said, smiling a little. "I guess not." He smiled at his mother and father. "And before you ask again, I am not mad at you. You did what you thought was best. I would have been really mad if Frank got to help and I didn't. Although," he added ruefully, rubbing the back of his neck. "He did help and I didn't."  
  
Frank put an arm around Joe's shoulders and gave him a gentle squeeze. "You know the lyrics, Baby Bro," he said, reminding him of one of his favorite songs. "Nothing ever goes as planned."  
  
"Too true," Joe agreed wholeheartedly. "Too true."  
  
Inside, Frank carried his bag upstairs, stopping in front of Joe's door. "I don't think that creep messed up your room but if he did, let me know and I will take care of it for you," he offered. "You need to take it easy for a few days."  
  
"Thanks," Joe said. Frank opened Joe's door and waited for Joe to go inside. "Looks okay," he said after scanning the perimeter with his eyes.  
  
"Climb in bed," ordered Frank. "I'll dump my bag and bring you the phone so you can ring Vanessa."  
  
"Okay," agreed Joe meekly.  
  
Frank looked at him critically. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?" he asked in concern.  
  
"I'm fine," Joe responded. "Really. Just tired."  
  
"Okay," said Frank, his face still registering concern. "I'll be back in a flash."  
  
Frank walked into Joe's room a few minutes later with the cordless phone in his hand. "I tried dialing her place for you but there's no answer," he said. "You can try again in a few minutes," he added, setting the phone down on the nightstand by Joe's bed.  
  
"No need," said Laura cheerfully, entering the room. "Guess who I found sitting on the back porch waiting for us to get home?"  
  
Vanessa entered the room behind Laura, her worried frown breaking into a huge smile when she saw Joe sitting up in bed. She rushed over and kissed his forehead. "You look great," she told him.  
  
"And you need glasses," Joe returned, laughing at her reaction to seeing him.  
  
"Silly," she said fondly, ruffling his hair. "You know what I mean. It's great to see you. Are you okay?" she asked, her blue-gray eyes saddening as she took in the discoloration on his face and the bandage on his thumb.  
  
"I am now," Joe replied softly, smiling up into her eyes.  
  
"I think that's our cue to give them some alone time," Laura said, setting the tray across Joe's lap. "Vanessa, make sure he eats," she instructed the girl. "He can't have his medication on an empty stomach."  
  
"I will," promised Vanessa, picking up the bowl of soup and the spoon. Laura and Frank exited the room leaving the couple alone.  
  
"Vanessa, about what I said about breaking up with you," Joe started.  
  
"Shh," she ordered, filling the spoon and putting it to his lips. "It's over. I don't want to hear anything about it except I do have one thing to say to you," she continued seriously. Joe looked at her questioningly. "If you ever try to dump me for my own good again, I'll drop kick you."  
  
Joe laughed. "As if you could," he said, reaching up and touching her nose with the tip of one finger. "We both know I would win in a wrestling match."  
  
Vanessa stiffened a bit. "Because you're bigger than I am?" she asked, giving him another spoonful of soup with an incredibly steady hand.  
  
"Of course," Joe agreed. "Ow!" he said as the spoon missed its mark and soup spilled down his shirt.  
  
"OH!" Vanessa gasped. "I'm sorry. I'll get Frank. He can help you change." She hurriedly stood up and rushed out of the room and down the stairs to where Frank was talking with his dad. Laura was in the kitchen fixing dinner for the rest of the Hardy family.  
  
"What's wrong?" demanded Fenton, seeing the distressed look on Vanessa's face.  
  
"That's not Joe," she declared. 


	51. Chapter 51

"Of course that's Joe," Frank declared, his stomach starting to bottom out.  
  
"No, it isn't," Vanessa stated firmly although her eyes were watering. "Joe's been teaching me how to wrestle," she explained. "I've gotten really good at some of the moves. Especially the dropkick one," she added. "I can take Joe down in seconds with that one every time."  
  
"And?" prodded Fenton, the nagging that had started the previous day pounding in his brain.  
  
"And just now that...that creep acted like I would never be able to use the maneuver on him," Vanessa continued. "Look, I know you didn't think Joe was Joe before but that was the real Joe!"  
  
"But he ran away after I sent him to his room," Fenton objected a bit weakly.  
  
"Of course he did!" Vanessa shouted in exasperation. "Do you honestly think Joe would let Frank walk into a trap and not try to help him even if he didn't want the help?"  
  
"Oh, God," croaked Frank, his face white. "Dad," he said, gripping his father's right arm. "Joe's in jail in a foreign country. There's no telling what is happening to him there!"  
  
"Easy," ordered Fenton. "I'll call the authorities over there and take care of it. In the meantime, don't let on that we know he isn't your brother."  
  
"But..."  
  
"No buts," Fenton stated. "These people have gone to a lot of trouble to get this imposter here. We need to find out why."  
  
"I can't," Vanessa said. "Looking at him makes me sick. I have to go home. Tell him my mom called or something. Oh, and Frank, you are supposed to help him change. He has soup on his shirt."  
  
"I'll tell him I sent you home so he could rest," Fenton said. "And Vanessa," he added as she started to leave. "Thank you."  
  
"Just get him back," she replied.  
  
"We will," vowed Frank. "What about mom?" asked Frank when Vanessa had left.  
  
"I'll fill her in," Fenton said. "You go on upstairs," he instructed. "Try not to leave him alone any longer than you have too. There's no telling what he will be into."  
  
As Frank headed up the stairs, Fenton went into the kitchen to break the news to his wife. Ten minutes later, with a shirt that was wet with tears, Fenton headed upstairs to his office. He looked up the number in the yellow pages online and called the commandant in Madritsara.   
  
"Commandant, this is Fenton Hardy," Fenton said when he was put through. "I need to talk to you about the young man whom you arrested at the hospital last night," he said.  
  
"Excuse me?" asked the commandant. "I don't know what you are talking about," he said. "There was no arrest made at the hospital."  
  
"The boy who we thought was an imposter broke into the hospital room where Frank and the real imposter were last night," explained Fenton. "He was arrested. But there was a major mix up. We have the imposter here and you have my son in jail."  
  
"Mr. Hardy, I assure you, we do not have your son in our jail," the commandant insisted. "No Americans have been arrested since Mr. Baldwin was apprehended three days ago." 


	52. Chapter 52

"You can't do this," objected Joe as he was led from the hospital room and to the elevator. "That guy in there is a fake; a terrorist," he insisted. "He's dangerous!"  
  
Joe was silenced when a fist connected with his face. Joe tasted the bittersweet blood as it dribbled from his mouth and down his chin. "Please?" Joe tried again. "He could hurt my brother."  
  
"Silence!" snapped one of the officers, rounding on him with blazing dark brown eyes.  
  
"But..." Joe objected only to be met with another blow to his face. This time Joe's teeth bit his tongue hard and blood spurted out of his mouth and he began coughing.  
  
He was hustled off of the elevator, out the front of the hospital and to a waiting car. There he was shoved roughly into the back seat followed by one of the guards who removed a gun from his holster and trained it on him.  
  
"I'm 'n cuss," Joe mumbled through lips that were rapidly swelling. He wanted to ask what they expected him to do in handcuffs but before he could the guard used the gun to hit him on the side of the head. Without another word, Joe blacked out.  
  
Joe moaned and moved his head sideways, groaning as a thousand rockets exploded. "He's coming around," he heard a distinctively American voice say.  
  
"Put him under," came an order issued by the same voice of the man in charge of the hospital complex he had been imprisoned in earlier.  
  
He felt a prick on his left arm and a few seconds later he drifted back into the nothingness from which he had just surfaced.  
  
Thee next time Joe awoke he found himself lying on a full bed in a medium sized bedroom. The curtains were drawn but the lamp by the bedside had been turned on so he could make out his surroundings without any problems. He was still handcuffed except that now he was spread eagle on the bed with each wrist and ankle cuffed to the corner of the bed's brass frame. His mouth tasted like metal despite the dry rag that had been shoved into his mouth and tied at the back of his head.  
  
He looked around the room and could tell it had been professionally decorated because all of the furniture appeared to be out of some picture he had seen and the colors were colonial blue, white, and a sort of off beige. His gaze moved to the door as it opened and a man in a black suit and tie entered. "Good morning," he greeted Joe, coming to stand beside the bed and looking down at the hapless youth. "I do apologize for the brutality you encountered on your trip," he said. "It was quite unnecessary."  
  
Joe glared up at his captor, thinking he knew him from somewhere although he couldn't place him at the moment.  
  
"Don't be too upset," the man begged with the barest hint of a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "You are very fortunate that you are still with us," he continued. "You see, we have just decided that you are more of a liability than an asset at the present. But even a condemned man gets a last meal," he added. "What would you care for?" he asked, looking at Joe in pseudo expectation. "You don't care? Well, now, you are easy to please, aren't you?" He gave a small laugh. "Relax," he instructed the incapacitated youth. "It will all be over in a few hours," he added as he turned and left the room.   
  
Joe pulled against the metal cuffs but to no avail. All his actions did were cause his wrists to become bruised. Groaning in frustration, he lay still and glared at the ceiling. He wondered where he was and why they had gone to all the trouble of cloning him. He sighed as he realized he was probably going to die without ever finding out.   
  
Fenton sat silently after hanging up the phone; willing the sense of grief that threatened to overwhelm him to dissipate. Where could his son be? Who were the men who had taken him from the hospital? NO! he thought, sitting up straight. Not who were those men? He needed to know who was responsible. Obviously, they had been planning on making a duplicate of Joe for some time. The question was, how did they know how to get Joe? Who knew the plan to send Joe to the academy?  
  
His forehead wrinkled in thought. What was it Laura had said? It was easy. She was right! The entire case had been too easy. It was almost as if everything that had gone down had been planned. But by whom? Who would benefit from him working on this case? Who would benefit by having a spy in his home?  
  
Fenton's face tightened in ill-concealed rage. Of course! The mystery had been a deception. It was all a plan to divert his attention from the case he had been working on before this alleged terrorist threat came into existence. Once it was solved he would be expected to go back to his original case and having a spy in his home would benefit the culprit. The imposter would keep them apprised of his investigation so that they would always be one step ahead of him. But the question remained: Who was behind it? And an even more pressing question: Would he be able to find out whom in time to save his son's life? 


	53. Chapter 53

"Hi, how are you feeling?" Fenton asked the imposter with feigned concern as he entered Joe's room.  
  
"Sleepy," replied Joe, barely managing to smother a yawn.  
  
"It's probably the antibiotics," Fenton said. "Why don't you get some rest? Frank, don't you have some homework to catch up on?" he asked, turning to his eldest son.  
  
Frank, never slow on the uptake, stood up from the desk chair. "Yes," he admitted. "I just wanted to spend some time with Joe first."  
  
"Your brother needs to sleep so hop to," Fenton instructed, leaving the room.  
  
"Lucky dog," Frank told Joe. "Since tomorrow is Friday you won't have to go back to school until Monday. Night, Joe," he added, leaving Joe's room and closing the door behind him.  
  
Frank went straight to his father's office and closed the door once he was inside. "So, is Joe on his way home or do we go and get him?" asked Frank.  
  
"Sit down," instructed Fenton who was already busy at his computer.  
  
Frank's brow furrowed but he did as he had been bidden and took a seat in front of his dad's desk. He sat silently; resisting the urge to tap his foot and drum his fingers for almost five minutes before he couldn't take it anymore. "Well?" he demanded impatiently.  
  
Fenton looked at Frank as if he were surprised to find him there. "He wasn't there," Fenton finally informed him, turning his attention back to the monitor.  
  
"Wasn't... WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE WASN'T THERE?" Frank demanded angrily, his brown eyes flashing as he leapt to his feet and slammed his hands down on the desk.  
  
"Calm down," ordered Fenton. "Give me a few more minutes and then I will tell you what I have planned," he promised.  
  
Frank didn't want to wait but he knew venting his anger and frustration would only impede getting his brother back so ground his teeth and sat back down. A few minutes later, Fenton closed his documents and turned off the monitor.  
  
"The men who took Joe away at the hospital were not working for the Madagascar authorities," Fenton began without preamble. "They were working for ours."  
  
"What?" demanded Frank in shock.  
  
"Before the piracy thing came up I was working on a case that implicated someone in Congress as being a traitor," Fenton explained. "Then I was asked to investigate the piracy because it was considered more of a threat and my previous case was put on a backburner.  
  
"I believe the traitor orchestrated the piracy to divert my attention," Fenton continued. "Of course, once the ease was solved I would return to find out who the traitor was."  
  
"And by having an imposter living here, the traitor would know what you were doing and even be able to steer you in the wrong direction," Frank picked up on what his dad was saying.  
  
"Correct," acknowledged Fenton. "Making a convincing duplicate takes time and lots of preparation," he began.  
  
"So they had picked Joe out before you sent him to boarding school," Frank stated, his eyes widening in realization.  
  
"Exactly," agreed Fenton. "But the culprit would have to of known I was sending Joe there," he continued. "Because I did a re-check on Baldwin just now. He began working at the academy shortly before it was decided Joe could only participate in the mystery if he attended the academy for special training."  
  
"Who was in on the decision?" demanded Frank.  
  
"Only a few men," Fenton admitted. "But it was Priest's right hand man who suggested he was too inexperienced to help."  
  
"Then he..." Frank broke off as Fenton shook his head.  
  
"I think it is Priest," Fenton said. "He has the connections and the wealth to pull off something like this," explained Fenton. "Plus, after reviewing the information I had already collected on the case, Priest could very well be the traitor."  
  
"And Joe?" asked Frank.  
  
"May be here in the states," Fenton acknowledged. "But since the imposter is here and they think we believe he is really Joe..."  
  
"They will kill Joe if they haven't already," Frank finished for his father. 


	54. Chapter 54

"Well, what are you just sitting there for?" demanded Frank. "Let's get Priest and find out what he did with Joe. I'll call Chief Collig and have him get that fake out of here," he added, reaching for the phone.  
  
"I might be wrong," Fenton said, frowning as he stilled Frank's hand on top of the handset.  
  
"You don't think so," Frank accused him.  
  
"No, I don't," acknowledged Fenton. "But this is Joe's life we are gambling with here. If Priest isn't behind this then we will need the imposter to lead us to him."  
  
"So we can't blow his cover until we have Joe," said Frank, moving removing his hand from the phone. "What are we going to do with him while we go to DC?" he asked. "I don't want to leave him here alone with mom even though she did slip him a sleeping pill with his antibiotics."  
  
"I'll call Sam Radley," Fenton decided. "He can come over and keep an eye on things. Then you and I will fly to DC and talk with a friend of mine in the secret service. He will know whom we can trust to raid Priest's place."  
  
"You really think he will have Joe at his house?" inquired Frank skeptically.  
  
"If he is the one behind this then it would be the safest place. Only the people he trusts will be allowed access to all but the main floor," Fenton explained.  
  
Dawn was breaking when the door to Joe's room opened and in walked two men. "I promised you a last meal," said the man from the previous evening. "I'm going to remove your gag but it won't do you any good to scream. We only kept you gagged so we wouldn't have to hear you all night."  
  
He reached out and tugged the gag from Joe's mouth. "Orange juice and sausage and eggs," the man continued. "You will understand if we don't release you."  
  
"You could release one hand," Joe tried to change the man's mind. "It would be easier if I fed myself."  
  
"Also easier for you to escape," the man returned.  
  
"I would still be cuffed three ways," Joe pointed out.  
  
"The Hardy reputation precedes you," the man said, grinning. "You will remain cuffed. However, if you choose not to eat, we will understand. You are, after all, going to die shortly."  
  
"Thanks, but I'll take the breakfast," said Joe. "I haven't really had anything in awhile."  
  
"Too true," his captor acknowledged. "At the very least, you have been denied four meals."  
  
"Why did you bring me here?" asked Joe after he had finished his small breakfast. Instead of answering, the gag was replaced and the two men left the room.  
  
Joe didn't have long to wait before he received visitors once again. His eyes widened in recognition as Arnold Priest stepped into the room. Priest removed the gag and gave Joe a sad little smile.  
  
"I'm sorry it has to end this way," Priest apologized to Joe.  
  
"Why?" Joe demanded. "Why did you kidnap me?"  
  
"Because your father was investigating the break in at the department of defense," Priest informed Joe. "It was only a matter of time before he managed to connect me to the affair. Now, with your duplicate in place, I can direct his investigation and make sure he never learns the truth."  
  
"What break in?" asked Joe. This was the first he had heard of it.  
  
"It was kept quite," Priest stated. "But I arranged for several important documents to be photocopied."  
  
"And sold to the highest bidder," Joe stated in disgust.  
  
"No," Priest denied. "Actually, the information is being given to my constituents who have been, shall we say, more than generous in their donations."   
  
"And what are they going to do with the information?" demanded Joe.  
  
"That is no concern of mine," Priest said with a wave of his hand. "My only concern at the present is to remain free and in my current position of power." Joe gave the man a look of utter disgust. "I'm sorry," Priest continued. "But now that your double has been accepted into the Hardy home as you; you are no longer necessary. You will have to be eliminated."  
  
"Here?" asked the man that Joe now could place as Priest's bodyguard. He had been in a couple of public relations pictures in the Washington Post.  
  
"Yes," agreed Priest. "But no blood," he added. "Smother him and then dispose of the body. Make absolutely positive no one will ever find it."  
  
"Yes, Sir," acknowledged the bodyguard.  
  
"I don't think so," stated a voice that was overflowing with acrimonious venom.   
  
Priest spun around in surprise to find Fenton Hardy standing in the doorway to the room. He entered the room followed by four secret service agents and Frank, who rushed to Joe's side as Priest's henchmen were taken into custody.  
  
"You can do pretty much anything," Fenton told Priest in a calm voice as he walked closer to him. "But when you mess with my family, you're history." Without warning, Fenton's fist shot out and Priest stumbled back. He fell to the floor with a crash. Fenton advanced on the man but one of the agents stepped in front of him.  
  
"We'll handle it from here," he said to Fenton who knew he meant the complete round up of all parties involved.  
  
Fenton made a face but turned to the bed where Frank was already picking the locks on the cuffs to release his brother. "Are you all right, Son?" Fenton demanded, his eyes filled with shame because of the pain he had put his son through.  
  
"Yeah," Joe replied, smiling at his father through bruised lips. "I am now."  
  
Later that night Joe was sitting on the sofa with his arm around Vanessa who had kissed him and declared him the one and only Joe Hardy. His family and friends were scattered around the living room occupying every available space.  
  
"I'm sorry," Frank apologized, looking at Joe in contrition. "I can't believe just because I heard a voice that sounded like yours I automatically assumed you weren't you."  
  
Joe winked at Vanessa then gave his brother a sly look. "How do you know I am me now?" asked Joe playfully. "I could be a second double."  
  
"One way to find out for sure," Frank stated. "Tell me what we did two days after my seventh birthday that we said we would never tell anyone."  
  
Joe grinned. "We snuck out after we were supposed to be in bed with the shoebox mom had been keeping her favorite shoes in and buried the rat that the neighbor's cat had left on our front porch," he answered.  
  
"I threw that thing away," objected Fenton in surprise.  
  
"Yeah, but Frank dug it out of the trash," Joe said.  
  
"I wondered what had happened to that shoebox," Laura said, grinning at the mischievousness of her two sons. "I suppose it did make a nice coffin for the rodent."  
  
Frank reached over and ruffled Joe's hair. "Welcome home, Baby Brother," he said.  
  
"To stay for real?" asked Joe a bit hesitantly, looking at his father.  
  
"For real," Fenton stated. "I should never have agreed to the demands of someone else. I knew you better than any of the men who were involved in the decision making. In the future, if the situation should ever arise again, I will decline the case before I agree to any outrageous terms such as that one."  
  
"If you thought it was so outrageous, why did you agree?" demanded Frank on the verge of anger.  
  
"At the time, I agreed with them," Fenton confessed. "Joe, you are rash and impetuous but you are also thoughtful and would never endanger anyone other than yourself. I misjudged you and for that I am truly sorry. But I promise, I will never underestimate you again."  
  
"In that case," Joe said, blushing just a bit. "I would say everything was well worth it."  
  
"You don't mean that," Frank contradicted him with a scowl.  
  
"Actually, I do," Joe replied. "I always thought you knew the right thing to do. Everyone expects you to be perfect whereas I am expected to screw up."  
  
"That's not..." Laura gasped but Joe held up his hand to silence her protest.  
  
"That's what I thought," Joe said, smiling at her a bit sadly. "But now I know that you aren't perfect," he continued, looking back at Frank. "You screw up just like me. Look how badly you goofed on this one," he added. Frank grimaced. "And I was right. You did walk into a trap. It felt good for the tables to be turned for a change even though I still ended up being the one who had to be rescued."  
  
"Only because of me," Frank reminded him. "If I hadn't been so stubborn and blind you would have rescued me that night in the hospital and we would have both come home then. But I had to let my emotions take over." He gave a derisive laugh. "How do you do it?" he demanded. "When you let your emotions rule, you always end up doing the right thing. I let them take over and I screw up big time."  
  
"That's an easy one," said Callie, kissing Frank's cheek. "You each have your own special gifts. It's the fact that you two are so different that makes you the perfect team. Your weaknesses are Joe's strengths and vice versa."  
  
"Yeah," agreed Vanessa. "But together, you're like one perfect whole. Unbeatable."  
  
"Here! Here!" agreed, Chet, Tony, Phil, Biff and everyone else who had gathered to welcome Joe home.  
  
End 


End file.
